


Flirting, Confusion, and Too Much Anxiety

by I_Come_Alive



Series: Petey is a Mess and Wade is the Best [1]
Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Alpha Wade Wilson, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, And anxiety, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Attempt at Humor, Fluff, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Mission impossible theme song, Mutual Pining, Omega Peter Parker, Panic Attacks, Peter Has Feelings, SO MUCH FLUFF, Tony Stark is trying his best, Wade Wilson Knows What's Up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-07
Updated: 2019-06-09
Packaged: 2019-09-13 07:55:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 22,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16888602
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Come_Alive/pseuds/I_Come_Alive
Summary: Peter has a crush. He knows this. Mr. Stark knows this. All the Avengers do, too.After the "incident" of meeting said crush, there wasn't any hiding it.Too bad it's not obvious to his crush. Too bad that, along with half of the Avengers, the alpha in question is going to witness Peter's most embarassing mission in years.





	1. Are we talking boys, or are we talking missions?

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, all! Thanks for stopping by and giving my little story a read. I think the chapters are going to be kinda short, but I promise a lot of fluff and a cute, anxious Spidey! Which I know we all love :D

Peter looks everywhere except at Mr. Stark. In fact, he’s blatantly staring up at the ceiling, neck cranked back and everything. His mask is off, and he stretches the material between his sweaty hands. This is not what he was expecting when he rushed out of his advanced bio engineering class after getting a text from “Iron Dad”.

  
“So, you didn’t read the files I sent you.” It isn’t a question, and Peter doesn’t have to look at him to know there’s a furrow between Mr. Stark’s eyebrows and a frown pulling at his lips. His irritation is clear in his scent, making Peter’s spidey-sense tingle lightly along his skin. “I mean, that’s just what I’m guessing, because I know you aren’t this stupid, kid.”

  
Peter squeezes his eyes shut. White spots dance behind his lids from the florescent lights in the lab. “I’m twenty,” he says. “I can make my own decisions, my own judgments. I don’t need files on every person I meet.”

  
A laugh bursts out of Mr. Stark’s throat, sounding almost like a cough. Peter can sense him moving around his many lab tables until he comes to a stop right in front of him. “You can’t even look at me.”

  
Peter’s head snaps down, and even though his heart is pounding, even though he knows Mr. Stark can smell the anxiousness on him, he manages to glare at the other omega.

  
Mr. Stark only shakes his head. “Seriously, Peter.” With a long sigh, he swipes his hand down his face. Guilt builds in Peter’s stomach, and his eyes find the floor. “I can make a list for you of why you aren’t old enough to make these decisions. You want to hear it?”

  
Eyes wide, Peter shakes his head. “No. Nope. Not necessary.”

  
Mr. Stark smiles sarcastically and spreads his arms out in a wild gesture. “Well,” he says, “too bad, because here it is. One,” he holds up a finger, “you can barely control yourself around him. I don’t think I need to remind you of that first time you met him.”

  
Peters cheeks color to match his suit. “I’m getting better. He’s just—"

  
“Nope. Don’t want to know,” Mr. Stark interrupts. Peter’s mouth snaps shut. “Two: you still call me ‘Dad’ during your pre-heats, and if that doesn’t scream ‘I’m a kid’ then—”

  
“You can’t use that against me! You know the spider bite messed with my hormones and everything’s even worse during that time,” Peter yells.

Mr. Stark gives him a ‘no shit’ look. “Took my third point right out of my mouth, kid.”

  
A growl rumbles from Peter’s mouth, not as loud or as rough as an alpha’s growl, but it’s enough to get his point across. They’ve had this conversation before. Multiple times. Now they’re just going in circles. “None of that even matters, okay? I can’t just stop or forget about it or… or whatever! This is just how I am, and he’s just… I don’t know!”

  
“Yes! Exactly!” Sometime during his little speech, Mr. Stark must have picked up a screwdriver. He waves it in Peter’s face, almost hitting him across the nose. “Point four: you don’t even know why you like him. He’s a killer. Dangerous. Insane. Psychotic. You’d know it all if you just read the files. It’s all in there.”

  
He’s not going to read about Wade’s “origin story” as he calls it. No, Wade will tell him one day, just like he’s told him about his favorite Mexican joint in Manhattan, and his latest mission, and the entire first season of Golden Girls.

  
A small smile graces Peter’s face as he thinks about the late-night conversations.

  
He likes Wade for a lot of reasons. He’s funny and smart. He’s sweet and caring, but crude and vulgar. He’s beyond annoying, but never fails to make Peter feel happier. And big. Wade is really big, maybe even bigger than Steve. And strong. Not as strong as Peter, of course, but that’s besides the point. Then, there’s the fact that he can’t permanently die. He won’t get hurt by one of Spiderman’s crazy villains. Peter wouldn’t lose him to Death.

  
He opens his mouth to try to tell Mr. Stark, but the words don’t come out. What if he says it, and it still isn’t enough for the millionaire? Peter looks at Mr. Stark’s expectant face, suddenly overcome with defeat. Shaking his head, Peter raises his hands to slip his mask back on. The smooth fabric contorts to his features with ease, bringing a slight coolness to his still-warm cheeks.

  
“It’s fine, Mr. Stark,” he says, fiddling with his web-shooters just to do something with his hands. “Pretty sure he’s not interested in me, anyway.” A tightness grabs at his throat, and he turns away from the other omega to hurry to the lab door. “Not old enough for him. Can barley get a full sentence out without losing my train of thought from just looking at him. Can’t even stand on my own two feet if I smell him around my pre-heat.” Peter huffs out a breath. “Not even around my pre-heat, really. That’s just how it always is.”

  
“Peter,” Mr. Stark says. Hand on the lab door, Peter waits a few seconds, debating if he should just leave or not. Grumbling, he turns back around. Mr. Stark is peering at him like he hopes to see through the Spiderman mask to the no doubt pathetic look on Peter’s face. “Jesus, kid. I can do the scolding stuff, but emotions? That’s more for your aunt, or Bruce, or maybe even Steve.”

  
From the safety of his mask, Peter rolls his eyes. He bets Mr. Stark would have great relationship advice if it was anyone other than Wade. Not that Peter really wants relationship advice from him. It’d be too embarrassing.

  
“That being said, there is a bigger reason why I asked you to come here. Now, come back over here, and take a look at this,” he says, waving Peter forward. “And for God’s sake can you not be so quiet? It’s unnatural for you.”

  
“This whole conversation is unnatural,” Peter mumbles, but he meets Mr. Stark by his display of holograms. The other omega’s scent has lost its acidic smell of irritation, and Peter tries not to greedily inhale the calm, sweetness he’s come to associate with ‘dad’ and ‘secure’.

  
His eyes quickly scan the holograms. From inside his suit, Karen catalogs all the information. “A mission,” he concludes. “Weapon X? I think I head of that before.”

  
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Mr. Stark cross his arms. “If you read those files, you would know all about it.”

  
“Wait, what?” Beneath his mask, his eyebrows furrow together not in confusion, but in concern. If this has something to do with Wade…

  
Mr. Stark moves some of the holograms around, bringing forward a picture of a man with dark blond hair and brown eyes. His handsome features tick at something in Peter’s brain, but before he can put the pieces together, Mr. Stark says, “Your boyfriend before Weapon X got ahold of him.”

  
A noise leaves Peter’s throat, somewhere between surprise and denial. He blows the picture up, studying every part of it. Wade’s full of scars now, but, of course, he wasn’t always like that. Peter clears his throat. “So, he was experimented on, right? That’s what this program does.”

  
“Yeah,” Mr. Stark says. “We all thought Deadpool wiped them out years ago, but Shield has new intel on them. They’re taking mutants off the streets, old and young.” He swipes the picture of Wade away and brings up twenty or so more.

  
Thoughts of Wade flee Peter’s mind. The pictures show both male and female, the oldest being maybe fifty. The youngest is a little boy who looks around six. Through the lenses of his mask, he can see that Karen is cataloging the many faces, but Peter’s eyes are stuck on the little boy’s smiling features. Dark, curly hair and front teeth that look to big for his mouth.

  
Cursing, Peter snaps his eyes away and starts pacing back and forth. “When do we leave?” he asks, “Today? We should go today. Get everyone else packed up and ready. Who’s all here? I’ll go tell them.”

  
People are being kidnapped and experimented on. Probably tortured, too. God, he feels sick. Why did Mr. Stark waste time talking about his nonexistent relationship with Wade when this was going on? They could be on the jet by now.

  
“We aren’t leaving until tomorrow,” Mr. Stark says, making Peter stop short. “Steve and Bucky are on their way here. Sam, Clint, and Natasha are upstairs, figuring out the plan.” Peter goes to argue, but Mr. Stark holds up a hand to stop him. “This isn’t the type of mission where we can go in guns blazing. There are hostages. No doubt injured and terrified hostages.”

  
The little boys toothy grin is still in the corner of Peter’s vision. The last thing he wants to do is get these people killed. And that’s what would happen if they charged in. The Weapon X people will see them and go right to the hostages to use them against the Avengers. He’s been in more than one situation to know this. Peter groans and runs his hands over his masked head. This is awful.

  
“Go visit your aunt, kid,” Mr. Stark says as he closes the holograms away in a single file. “Get a good dinner and rest. Be here at seven tomorrow morning for lift off.”

  
“Yeah, yeah. Okay.”

  
Peter walks away, head slightly fuzzy with all the information and anxiousness. _Get some rest_. Not likely.

  
“Oh, and kid,” Mr. Stark says, stopping Peter from walking out the door. “Deadpool is coming with.”


	2. The More the Merrier, Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who read, kudoed, commented, subscribed, bookmarked, ext.... You all are amazing! Enjoy Chapter Two!

He gets to the tower half an hour earlier than Mr. Stark told him to, but Peter was too keyed up to wait any longer. He didn’t get any rest last night. Not with knowing that he was going to be in the same jet as Wade for hours, and then longer after that for the mission. He did, however, visit Aunt May and eat enough of her famous meatloaf to make her more than a little worried.

Besides Clint and Natasha, he’s the only one on the landing deck of the tower. The rest of the team are still inside, gearing up or having a last-minute breakfast. Peter sits cross-legged on the concrete floor, his back resting against the windows looking into one of Mr. Stark’s many living rooms.

Exhaustion nags at him, but his brain still buzzes with nerves and anxiety. He plays with his web-shooters, changing the settings and aiming for Clint a couple of times. He stays clear of Natasha, of course. The single look she sent his way was enough to warn him off.

The little boy’s smiling face has been on his mind since Tony showed him that projection. He should be worrying about him rather than Deadpool, but he can’t help thinking about what Mr. Stark said yesterday.

Peter didn’t like Wade when they first met, but he wanted him right away. It wasn’t intentional. It was just a reaction. One second Peter was fighting robots, and the next there was a two hundred fifty pound man walking towards him, katanas dismembering robots along the way, and Peter forgot how to stand.

“Deadpool has arrived with Ms. Domino. Lift off scheduled in ten minutes,” Jarvis announces over the speakers.

“Domino?” he mutters.

“Get over here and pick your seat, Spidey!” Clint yells at him from the jet’s ramp. The slight panic from hearing Jarvis say Wade brought a girl has him bounding up off the ground and across the deck. Giving Clint a fist bump on the way in, Peter takes in the details of the jet. It isn’t this first time he’s been in one. It isn’t even the second or third, but it seems like each time he does, Tony has added a new feature. Sometimes is a weapon or one of those fancy hologram computer tables. Sometimes is a coffee machine or a squared off corner for Bruce if he starts getting green too soon.

Natasha comes to greet him before he can figure out what it is this time. “Hey, Spiderman.” She knows his name is Peter, but she never calls him it. She knows his face, where he lives, and about Aunt May. Hell, she probably knows more about him than Tony does. But that’s her job. That’s just how she is. Doesn’t mean Peter likes it. “Tony said you’re the one who’s pushing us to leave so soon.”

Peter lifts his hand to rub at his hair, then jerks it back down when he feels the smooth spandex of his mask. “Uh, yeah. I wanted to leave yesterday as soon as he told me. It’s awful, you know?”

She takes in his bouncing frame, his twitching hands. If he had his mask off, she’d see his eyes darting around the cockpit, but who knows? She might be able to tell with her freaky spy powers or whatever.

Peter can hear it as the rest of their team walks up to the jet, because Mr. Stark and Wade are already fighting. He turns, taking in the sight the six of them make. Already suited up, Cap, Bucky, and Sam are trailing in the back, hauling black duffle bags in their arms. Some feet in front of them, Mr. Stark is lecturing Wade about following his rules. But, Peter’s focus in on the girl. Domino. She’s at the front, looking both graceful and strong with her perfect hair and easy smile.

He hates her. He doesn’t care if he’s never met her before. He hates her.

Natasha elbows him in the side with a knowing look on her face. Peter tries to ignore it.

And then Domino is strutting up the ramp, Clint at her side all smiles. Wade and Mr. Stark are closing in fast. Too fast for Peter to get his shit together. The panic is crawling up his throat, and Peter’s internally cursing at himself.

_Why does he always have to get like this? Stupid. Stupid. Stupid._

Clint and the girl are heading towards him and Natasha, and with a surge of adrenaline, Peter practically jumps past them, past Mr. Stark and Wade, ignoring their shouts, and straight to Sam, Cap, and Bucky. They’re safe, and weirdly enough, probably the sanest out of everyone here.

Maybe Peter should spend a few years in Wakanda, too. He could make his web shooters out of vibranium to stop them from breaking when he accidently steps on them at five in the morning during his rush to get ready for school. Maybe he can introduce the metal into his web fluid or make an entire vibranium suit like Black Panther has. Wade would be so jealous.

“Hey, Pete? You alright?” Bucky’s voice snaps him out of his vivid Wakandan fantasy.

“Yes!” Their eyebrows raise high on their foreheads in total sync. “Uh, I mean, yeah. Of course. How are the kids? Are they good?”

Steve and Bucky have three kids. _Three_. And he thinks they want more. Two of them are adopted, the oldest and youngest. Wade actually had a hand in helping them find the perfect agency. A mutant adoption agency. Sam had to step in to stop Steve from adopting them all. And the middle one is all Steve and Bucky. Peter was there for the birth. Well, he sat in the waiting room in a high security SHEILD building for hours with the Avengers while Bucky gave birth. He still isn’t sure why he was invited to come, but it was nice. Slightly terrifying, but nice.

Steve and Bucky exchange a glance. “They’re good. We have them staying at the Avengers Compound with the trainees. They love it there.”

Peter smiles, the white eyes of his mask thinning with the movement. “I bet they do,” he says. “All that stuff to mess around with and people to bother.” Sam coughs into his fist, and Peter’s eyes go round again. “Oh, I mean. I’m sure they’re great—”

Steve chuckles and a smile tugs at Buck’s lips. Peter swallows his spit, almost choking on it from how dry his throat is. Because he just insulted Captain America and the Winter Soldier’s children.

“No, you’re right,” Bucky says. “They can be tyrants, but I think we better get going. More kids need our help.”


	3. A Mature, Rational, Adult Reaction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why am I so obsessed with Peter freaking out and sticking himself to the ceiling?

The girl sits beside him. Right next to him. There are twenty seats in here, not counting the pilot and copilot seat, and she’s sitting shoulder to shoulder with him. He wants to get up, wants to move to a seat further away. Maybe even into Bruce’s corner and take a little nap in the bean bag-like chair. But that would be rude, right? He’d insult her, and Wade, too. And everyone would see it.

He rubs his sweaty palms down his thighs, and squeezes his tired eyes shut. Not for the first time, he wishes his suit were made out of something else. Something more comfortable, and less revealing than spandex. He thoughts turn longingly to the sweatshirt crumbled into a ball on his bed. Wade gave it to him one night when they met up for patrol and it was unseasonably cold out.

Does this girl have one of Wade’s hoodies, too?

Like she knows he was thinking about her, Domino finally speaks up. “So, your Spiderman, huh?” she says. Peter rolls his eyes. As if she hasn’t been sitting next to him for half an hour while he’s dressed in bright red and blue spandex, black spider insignia stark on his chest. “How old are you, anyway? You look smaller than I thought you’d be.”

Peter grumbles. He can see the top of Mr. Stark’s head and he glares at it. Maybe if he does it with enough intensity, he’ll turn around and save him from making an ass of himself. When are they going to go over their plan, anyway?

“He talked about you nonstop on the drive here,” Domino says, nodding in the direction Peter knows Wade is. The same direction he’s been avoiding looking at since he sat down.

_He’s never talked about you._ It’s on the tip of his tongue, and he bites his lip hard enough that he jumps a little in his seat. “Sorry,” he mumbles, but a nice, warm feeling settling in his gut at her words. Wade talks about him. It’s pathetically satisfying.

Domino shifts in her seat until she’s facing him, knees pressing into his thigh, and he wants to slink back. Curl into a ball. She smells _fine_. Like fresh baking bread and spice. A perfectly pleasant omega scent, but Peter doesn’t want it on _him_. He knows he doesn’t really smell like other omegas do. Not since the spider bite. Tony said he smells sweet, but bitter, laced with anxiety and chemicals. Not _bad_ , he said, just different. And then he went on to tell Peter not to ask him weird questions like that.

Peter fidgets with his web shooters and grits his teeth.

“Why?” Domino says, and it takes Peter a few seconds to remember what they were talking about. “From what he was saying, it sounded like you like him enough.”

And then his anxiety gives way to anger. Like him _enough_? And what does she mean _why_?

Because she’s obviously Wade’s… God, he doesn’t even want to think about it.

“Baby!”

Peter’s on the ceiling of the jet before he knows what’s happening. His heart has left his body. His stomach boils with panic.

“Woah! Sorry about that, Spidey. Didn’t mean to give you the shakes.”

Peter looks down and comes nose to nose with Deadpool’s panda mask. A sound not unlike a mouse squeak leaves his throat. “Oh em gee, that was so adorable!” Wade clasps his hands together and pops one of his feet up.

Peter’s face feels like it’s on fire. “Wha..?” “You smelt mad, baby. I thought I’d come check on you. Is Domino being a bitch?”

He can hear her mouth pop open in shock, but Peter can’t move. Wade is an inch from his face. An inch. If it weren’t for their masks, he’d be able to feel his breath.

“I was pretty mad yesterday, you know. It started out with an old lady pointing a gun at my head…well kind of at my head. Then I saw a spoiler for The Great British Baking Show. I saw the winner, Spidey! The winner! And I was only five episodes in. Then Iron Buns calls me…”

Wade’s voice kind of fades away. And Peter has a moment to think, _Shit_!, before his breathing picks up, and the small hairs on his fingers grip tighter to the ceiling. His head snaps back up so he’s staring at the ceiling with blurring vision. He can feel eyes on him. Not only Wade and Domino, but all the others, too. The hair raises against his neck and his stomach cramps.

The jet engine is deafening, and he has to push down his nausea to open his mouth. “Dad! I don’t feel good.” He can’t unstick himself from the ceiling. He can’t breathe right. Why is this happening now? He’s twenty. He’s been dealing with this for almost six years, and he still can’t control it.

People are talking, he knows, but he can’t focus enough to understand what the words are. Then a warm hand is on his back, so big he swears it spans the entire width. He doesn’t like being touched when he’s like this. It’s too much sensory input for him to handle. But the hand is so warm, bordering on hot, and he’s been cold since Mr. Stark showed him those pictures yesterday. Another hand wraps around his side and gently pulls. Mumbling voices follow. Peter lets his eyes fall shut and forces himself to breathe. In through the nose, out through the mouth.

Fire and cinnamon fill his nose, his brain. His fingers and toes unstick from the ceiling in under a second, and he’s falling. Only to be crushed into a large, warm chest.

“Jesus Christ, kid.” Peter hears it through the buzzing in his ears. The fact that he can hear normally is enough to lift the heavy feeling off his chest, off his whole body. The arms around him tighten then start to lower him to his seat. Peter furrows his brows in disappointment. The arms feel safe and warm.

“I’ll just put you right here, Spidey. Safe and sound, alright? I’ll go waaaaayy over there. You won’t even see me for the rest of the ride, okay?”

Peter knows it’s Wade who says it, but he sounds wrong. Sad, angry, but understanding.

_NO._

_No. No. No._

His hands latch onto a thick forearm as his breathing grows heavy once again. His eyes are watering. Too many emotions in such a short amount of time and he can’t control any of them.

Mr. Stark makes an angry sound and pushes his way closer to Peter. “It’s not you, you idiot,” he says. Then he’s pulling at Peter’s arms until he stands on shaking legs. “You didn’t sleep at all last night, did you?”

Shaking his head, Peter follows Mr. Stark into the small bathroom at the back of the jet. It’s big enough for both of them, and, huh, he added a shower. That wasn’t there last time.

“Alright. What’s going on?” They’re facing each other. The sink jabs uncomfortably into Peter’s back. “Take your mask of, will you?”

With shaking hands, he does. The thin material sticks to his sweaty face and he grimaces at the feel of it. He balls the mask in his hands. “Panic attack.”

Sighing, Mr. Stark puts a hand on Peter’s shoulder. “Yeah, I know that. I’ve seen you have enough panic attacks to last a life time, but why?”

“You already said it. I didn’t sleep last night.” Mr. Stark raises his eyebrows.

“You know I am a genius, right? It’s the girl.”

“D-don’t be silly, Mr. Stark,” Peter stutters. “Why would it have to do with her? She seems…uh… nice. Yeah, nice.”

“Right, listen. This is what you’re going to do. You’re going to take a little nap in Hulk’s corner, and I will wake you up when we go over the plan.” Peter nods, eyes taking in the different buttons and their labels. A hand is waved in front of his face to get his attention. “And for the record, kid, I don’t think they are together like that.”

“L-like what?” Mr. Stark rolls his eyes. “Like mates, Peter. Jesus. Did I sign up to be a mentor or a relationship counselor?”

“I thought you signed up to be my dad, sooooo…both?”

Mr. Stark gives him the look. The one that says he’s completely done. “Go take your nap, Parker.”


	4. Hulks Corner (Renamed the Flirting Corner?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, all! Have I told you how amazing you guys are for liking my story?!   
> I hope everyone enjoys this fluffy, cute chapter, and I'm sad to say I won't be able to update until probably early January, because I'll be on a Walt Disney World Christmas Vacation (squeals). So, I hope everyone has a great holiday, and if not, you can always drown your sorrows in Spideypool fanfiction, or make your family members uncomfortable by talking about it...in detail. :D

Tony designed Hulk’s corner to be the perfect place to keep a rage monster under control. But he didn’t design it for someone like Peter. No matter how soft and cozy the cushions and blankets are, he can still feel the constant vibrations of the plane rumbling through his ears and along his skull. His senses are too heightened to relax. Tension coils his muscles until they ache.

He took his mask off and shucked one of the thicker blankets over his head. Sure, almost everyone on the plan has seen his face before, but he still doesn’t really like to be without it around them. And there is no way that he’s going to have a big identity reveal for Wade and Domino right now. Actually, he plans to never show the mutant woman his face. Wade on the other hand…

He planned it out before in some cliché fantasy. They’d be on a rooftop, of course, and Peter would’ve gotten the alpha’s favorite Mexican take out. They’d eat, and joke, and talk, until Peter would calmly, smoothly slip off his mask, extend his hand, and introduce himself. Not as Spiderman, but as Peter.

Blowing out a long breath that puffs up the blanket around his face, Peter stares down at his hands. The little hairs are still erect, wanting to stick onto anything and everything. He rubs the pads of his finger together in an attempt to flatten the hairs down.

Tony is going to be pissed that he isn’t really taking a nap. He’s going to be pissed at how twitchy and distracted Peter knows he’s going to be for the mission. But he’s been laying here for an hour. What should be a nice blend of his friends’ scents irritates his nose. The blankets smell faintly of Bruce’s familiar beta smell. An interesting blend of eucalyptus, pepper, and what Peter associates with science labs. But that last one may just be a side effect from how much time he spends in said labs.

He’s so focused on the different scents that he doesn’t notice someone’s standing next to him until their voice is whispering right above his head.

“Hey, Spidey.”

Peter gulps loud enough that Wade probably heard it. _Oh, god. Why?_

“I know your not sleeping.” Wade pauses, then furiously mumbles to himself. Peter catches, “ _I didn’t mean for it to sound so creepy, White._ ”

Peter smiles. He’s used to this, Wade talking with the boxes in his head, and he takes the few precious moments to collect himself enough to say, “Yeah, I’m awake.”

“Great! Uh, you okay under there?” Wade asks. “I mean you still smell all…jumpy?” Peter fidgets under the blankets, his face getting warmer by the second. “Domino says she didn’t say anything that would upset you, but I can never tell if she’s lying or not. You just say the word, baby, and I’ll throw her out of the plan. Lady Luck probably wouldn’t even get a scratch.”

Peter doesn’t think about it. Nope, not at all.

But he remembers what Mr. Stark said, so he pushes those jealous, violent thoughts away. “She’s nice,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, she’s a good friend. Been wanting to meet you for a long time.”

Peter’s stomach sours with guilt. _He was the one being rude_.

Before he can think of an appropriate response, leather crunches and groans. Solid heat is at his side, fiery cinnamon leaking through the blanket fibers. Something in Peter relaxes a tad. Maybe if the alpha would just stay here, he’d finally be able to fall asleep.

“Baby? You gonna take that blanket off your head?” His voice drops into uncertainty, and Peter feels him shift around on his feet. “Or do you want me to leave you alone?”

“No!” Peter whisper shouts. “Wait. Just let me get my mask.” It feels like it takes way too long for his fingers to finally latch on to his mask and slip it back over his face. The blanket is tugs off his head a moment later.

Peter is greeted with Wade’s panda mask. The place where his eyebrows should be is scrunched together. “Hi,” Peter says, then instantly cringes at himself.

Wade sighs in a way that Peter imagines he’s fluttering his make-believe eyelashes at him. “Want me to help you get some Z’s, baby?”

Face flaming under his mask, Peter can do nothing but stutter out nonsense.

Wade’s mask stretches around his lips as he smiles. “Look,” he says, reaching into one of his pouches, “I got some headphones and an ipod with my own special playlist.” Here his eyebrows wiggle suggestively. Peter doesn’t pout. No, he doesn’t. It’s not like Wade would do something like squeeze under Bruce’s blanket and let him breathe in his perfect alpha scent. That would be ridiculous. Peter calmly watches as Wade pulls out a small, beat up looking ipod and a pair of Hello Kitty ear buds. He drops the items in his lap before rising his hands to Peter’s face. A puff of cinnamon scent invades his nose.

He’s not going to lie this time. His breath catches in his throat.

But before the leather clad fingers can graze his cheeks, Wade must realize what he’s doing, because he stops. “And just, um, just pull your mask up.”

Automatically, Peter freezes. His heart rate picks up again. “W-why?”

Wade dangles the earbuds from his fingers. “To put these in. I guess you could do it when I walk away though, if that’s better. Didn’t really think of the whole face thing _. Yes, I know he doesn’t want us to see, Yellow_.” He hands the ipod and headphones to Peter and says, “Try the sleepy face emoji playlist. Works like a lucky rabbit’s foot charm.” Wade’s words gradually come faster. “I mean it works okay for me. Not like one hundred percent effective, but I thought it would drown out the engine and Clint…and me, probably, too. You don’t have to use it if you don’t want too, of course.”

Biting his lip, Peter scrolls through the ipod. “Thank you, Wade. I think it’ll help a lot.”

The eyes of Wade’s mask widen. “Great! I also have this.” He pulls a medium sized red object from one of his pouches. A Spiderman plushie, Peter realizes when Wade turns it to face him. He uses his finger to make the plushie wave at him. “It’s full of my scent.”

Peter’s stomach drops however many thousand miles they are in the air and splats on the hard ground. That’s something mates do: give each other things with their scent on it. Well, mates, or parents with their kids.

So, why would Wade give him a plushie full of his scent? Why would he know that it would help Peter calm down enough to fall asleep? It couldn’t be because he knows Peter has the world’s biggest crush on him. Wade would have said something about it by now, wouldn’t he?

Peter is blushing so much that his cheeks hurt. “Um.” _Why are you giving this to me?!_ His brain is yelling at him to say it, but his mouth gapes open in silent panic, unable to form words.

“What?” Wade asks. “I said something stupid again, didn’t I?”

“N-no. But maybe I did?” Peter doesn’t think he has. At least, he hasn’t today. Flashes of all the times he’s slipped up around Wade fly through his mind. And Peter only just reminds himself to keep breathing.

Wade tilts his head. “What does that mean?”

“Nothing! Nothing. Um, thank you.” He takes the plushie from Wade’s hands, the hairs on his fingers automatically clinging to the soft fabric.

Scratching at his head, Wade softly sniffs at the air. Peter fidgets, trying to release his fingers without bringing the alpha’s attention to it. “Good,” Wade says. “Now it’s all up to you, baby boy. Just burrow down into your nest, shut your beautiful little eyes, and we’ll wake you up for the big reveal of my plan. Then it’s off to kill the fucks at Weapon X.”

Peter thought he’d be too shook to properly answer, but the mention of killing is enough to make him glare up at the alpha. “No killing.”

Wade’s hands slap down on his cheeks and his mouth pops open obnoxiously. “There he is!”

Peter tries to land a punch on the merc’s ridiculously large shoulder, but the alpha springs to his feet before his fist makes contact. “Have a good nap, Spidey. We’re going to need your firm, sassy ass in full gear!”

Grumbling to himself, Peter wiggles into a comfortable position, and pulls the blanket back over his head. It takes way too long to unstick his fingers from the plushie, but when he does, he pulls of his mask. The cooler air is a relief to his blistering cheeks and ears. He thumbs through the ipod to find the right playlist, then stuffs the pink buds in his ears.

Peter smiles as Celine Dion cuts through the sound of the engine and his teammates. A true Canadian Queen, Wade called her.

But, with a sense of awe, confusion, and embarrassment, he can’t help replaying what just happened, and what it all means.

Wade knows Peter likes him. He knows Peter likes him a lot.

How is he supposed to sleep now? He glances down at the Spiderman plushie laying innocently in his lap. It’s already filling the space under the blanket with the smell of cinnamon and fire.

_Right_ , Peter thinks, _that’s how._


	5. Let's Say it's Because of the Altitude

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my dear readers! This took forevvverrr to write, and I have no idea why. I'm not very happy about it, but it's been too long. Please enjoy and forgive me for my snail pace! (More notes at the end!)

Peter wakes up in a warm, comfortable nest, a sweet song playing in his one of his ears. The other is pressed deep into a soft pillow. Fire and cinnamon dance in his nose. It’s a lot more pleasant than it should have any right to be. He squirms around a bit, rubbing his cheek on against the plush material, then rolls over, ready to fall back into a dreamless sleep.

“Kid, you need to wake up.”

Peter groans and squeezes his eyes shut tight.

“Yeah, yeah.” He can tell just from Mr. Stark’s tone that the man is rolling his eyes skyward. “But it’s time to go over the plan. We’ll be landing in a few hours.”

 _Right_. The mission. The kid. Weapon X.

He’s used to falling asleep late into the night and getting up before the sun to finish last minute homework then rushing to his early morning class, but it’s still harder than usual to pull the blanket off his head and sit up. The earbud that didn’t fall out during his sleep does now, rolling down his chest and landing on the cushy chair.

Mr. Stark follows the movement, then raises his eyebrows judgmentally. Looking down, Peter can’t stop himself from groaning again. There, laying innocently in the crook of his arm is the Spiderman plushie.

“Hold on,” Mr. Stark says, eyes raking over Peter.

He can’t help but to pull the blanket back towards his neck, covering his body, but the blanket gets caught around his feet and he’s unable to hide his blushing face. His free hand fumbles around under the blanket for his precious mask.

“You made a nest? You made a nest in Bruce’s corner? And Wade helped.” The last part isn’t a question, but, still, Mr. Stark sounds perplexed, as if he couldn’t believe this would ever happen. “That’s his scent. Those have to be his earbuds. I mean who else has pink cat earbuds?”

“Probably, Clint,” Peter grumbles to himself. Then says louder, “Yeah, so what? I couldn’t sleep. It’s too loud in here, and all the smells, and the anxiety, and… and, uh. Yeah.”

“He helped you sleep,” Mr. Stark said slowly, confused.

Peter’s face flames, and unable to find his mask, he throws off the blanket, evidence of his nest be damned. After scrambling around, he finally unravels it from where the blanket has bunched up at his feet. He slips it over his head as quickly as he can. The sooner he can hide his face from Mr. Stark the better. But when he glances at the billionaire’s struck expression, Peter can’t help feeling indignant.

Yeah, the alpha he’s had a crush on for years helped him fall asleep. It’s no big deal. They’re friends, he guesses. Friends help each other out when they have an unplanned, unnecessary, and totally embarrassing panic attack right in front of them and find themselves unable to calm down enough to fall asleep.

And then said friend makes it _pretty_ clear that they are completely aware the other friend has feelings for them. Extra feely feelings. Yeah, it happens to people all the time.

“Tony! Webs! Hurry up and get over here,” Steve yells from the front of the plane.

Peter scrambles of the plush chair in a hurry. Steve might not be his alpha, but the guy still is Captain America, and when Cap says move, you move. But when he gets to his feet, he hovers uncertainly over his nest, looking between the ipod and the plushie.

Mr. Stark sighs. “Just come one, kid. It’s not going anywhere.”

“Do you think he’ll want it back?”

Peter backs away when Mr. Stark’s eye twitches. Then he twists around and speed walks down the narrow walkway towards where the others congregate. Seven heads turn in unison as he approaches, and he waves awkwardly.

He should be avoiding looking at Wade. Isn’t that what people do when their crush is revealed? Isn’t that what he was doing when Wade first got here? But no, the nap made him feel more like himself, and his narrowed eyes immediately glue to the unfairly large man.

Why didn’t he tell Peter sooner? He’s liked the merc for _years_.

Mr. Stark roughly knocks into his shoulder when Peter doesn’t move out of the way. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s enough to jar him out of his intense staring match with Wade’s chest. His head snaps over to scan the rest of the team, worried that they noticed.

They did.

He takes in Natasha’s smirk, Clint not so subtlety scenting of Peter’s shoulder, Cap and Bucky’s raised eyebrows, and the way Sam sits with his hand covering half his face, his one eye all but pleading at Peter to just stop doing everything he’s doing. And then there’s Wade and Domino, who whisper together while side eyeing him.

Peter scowls behind his mask, cursing his excessive blushing, and racing pulse. If it weren’t for the people who need saving, Peter would one hundred percent regret agreeing to this mission. At least he has control over the sticky hairs on his fingers again. Just one of the embarrassments of this mission that no one witnessed.

When nobody says anything, Peter fidgets and drops down into the only other open chair between Clint and Bucky. The former claps him on the shoulder and smiles a little too amusedly. A large cup is placed in front of him my Mr. Stark, the liquid inside an unappealing green-brown color.

“Oh, that’s not necessary,” Peter says, already going to push the cup away, but a hand stops him.

Following the hand up to Natasha’s face, Peter pouts. “It’s healthy.” Her eyes hold no room for discussion.

“Don’t worry, Spidey-babe!” Wade’s voice booms around the cabin, and Peter’s instantly at attention. “You know I’d never let you go hungry!” With that, he throws down a large plastic container complete with jazz hands and a middle finger to Natasha and Mr. Stark.

“Wilson,” Mr. Stark growls.

But whatever he’s going to say next in interrupted by Peter’s yell of, “Pizza!”

He doesn’t mess around. Throwing out a lightning fast web and pulling the container in front of him, Peter doesn’t even notice the soft purring escaping his throat. But he does notice the sudden and complete silence in the room, making his spidey sense buzz at a low level.

Peter clears his throat. “Th-thanks, Wade,” he says, but the purring doesn’t stop. “Oh my god.” Beyond words, he drops his head to the table and waves a hand in the air in a vain attempt of saying _Continue without me_.

This is just… Well, this is a nightmare, honestly.

The dad talk, the girl, the panic attack, the plushie and music, the nest, and now purring.

Someone please just stop him.

Thankfully, someone seems to get his message. That someone being good old Cap who clears his throat and says, “Alright, team. We’re landing in three and a half hours. Wade and I have discussed the plan already, but we are open to your comments, questions, and ideas for change as we take you through it.”

“Please, wait until the end to voice your concerns for I do not like to be interrupted,” Wade says in a ridiculous showman’s voice. “But feel free to enjoy your food, beverages, and my delicious body throughout the presentation.”

For a second, Peter feels like he’s going to throw up. The embarrassment is just too much. He can’t take any more. But the groaning, cursing, and _audible_ eye-rolls at Wade are enough for him to relax the smallest amount, peek out from behind his arms, and meet Wade’s gaze.

The idiot _winks_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm feeling kind of stumped on where to go with this. I had the big idea, but I'm losing the inspiration. The last thing I want to do is give up on this though. I love this story so much. So, if you have any ideas of what you want to see happen or embarrassing situations to put our precious Peter in to spark my creativity just hit me up in the comments please! Any ideas are welcome! You are all the BEST.


	6. Only an Idiot Would Think That's a Good Idea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, guys, guuuyysss, you are all seriously amazing. Reading your comments, support, and ideas, I was tearing up, smiling like crazy, laughing, and lightbulbs were popping up above my head like crazy. I love you guys so much! AH! Cookies for everyone.
> 
> I am going to try to include all the ideas you gave me in this story, and do my best to give shout outs at the end of each chapter to whoever helped inspired it! If I miss you, yell at me in the comments and I promise to fix it!

“Where’s your real suit, kid? Did you pack it?”

Peter looks down at his red and blue clad body, then back up at Mr. Stark. He’s wearing one of his older suits, without the armor or Karen. It still has some tricks in its sleeves and Stark technology in the mask, but everything else is all him. He’s been wearing it more and more these days. He likes the freedom of it. He likes knowing what he is capable of without the extra help. Call him idiotic or reckless if you want.

“Just this one, Mr. Stark,” he says, and the millionaire frowns. “I like it best.”

Even with all the other scents in the cabin, Peter can tell that Mr. Stark’s spikes bitterly. “We’re going on a dangerous mission, and you bring your neighborhood suit? What are you thinking?”

What was he thinking? More like what is Mr. Stark thinking. He’s more than capable. Probably even more capable than the older omega is.

Peter’s huffing out air through his nose, taking in the scent of agitation and letting it fuel his own. But before he can hash it out at Stark about boundaries, a hand clamps down on his shoulder. In his anger, Peter spins and grabs the appendage on instinct, then twists the whole arm behind the persons back.

“Ouch! Ouch! Bad touch!”

Peter lets go the second his brain catches up with his actions. “Shit, sorry, Clint!” His hands hover nervously around Clint’s right arm and shoulder, but the man just shakes it out with a grimace on his face.

“Right,” he says. “Note to self. Don’t sneak up on the spider kid.”

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” Peter repeats, glancing at Natasha like she’s going to come over and sting him enough times that he falls over, unconscious. But the red-haired alpha is openly smiling, eyes glittering and everything.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Clint says, waving Peter away. “Cap says no fighting, so go talk to your boyfriend and the pretty lady over there, away from Irondad. Save that anger for the bad guys.”

When Peter finally looks back at Mr. Stark, he looks like he wants to take his _and_ Clint’s suits and lock them away until they’ve learned their lessons. Peter shifts from foot to foot, unable to stay still. _You’re an adult_ , he growls at himself.

Peter forces himself still, and when Mr. Stark raises his eyebrows impossibly high at his antics, refusing to say anything, Peter only glares at him and marches off.

He wants to make a dramatic escape. He doesn’t care how immature it is. But he’s in a plane, and short of jumping out, there aren’t many places to go. Predictably, he joins Wade and Domino at the back of the plane.

He passes Bruce’s corner on the way, a pleased feeling lighting up in his chest when he sees the ipod and plushie still laying there. He tries to shake it off, to get a hold of himself. It’s only been hours and even with his Parker luck, he’s never been in so many embarrassing situations in such a short amount of time. He needs to get his shit together.

He mentally lists the things he needs to focus on. _Weapon X. The boy. The others they took. Wade. Proving himself to Mr. Stark for the thousandth time._

What else?

“We’re not jumping out. Remember what happened last time?” a snarky, but soft voice interrupts Peter’s thought process.

He didn’t realize how close he got to Wade and Domino until he looks up and they’re only a couple feet in front of him, standing way too close to the door the Avengers sometimes use to drop out of mid-flight.

“Yeah, but these are trained professionals,” Wade says. “They can totally do it. No casualties.”

Peter cuts in, arms crossed over his chest. “Cap already said that we’re not doing that plan.”

Wade snatches his hands away from the lever that opens the door. “Spidey!” He clasps his hands behind his back and rocks on his feet. Peter rolls his eyes, but he can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips. “How’re you feeling? Ready to kick some ass?”

“More than ready.”

“Good ‘cause these guys don’t mess around. They’re sick fucks.”

“I can handle it,” he growls. If his mask was off, they’d be able to see his narrowed eyes and his small, pointed teeth on display. He already had Mr. Stark acting skeptical about his abilities, he doesn’t need Wade doubting him, too. “I’ve fought HYDRA, the Goblin, Mysterio, the Sinister Six, weird, magical aliens, doombots—”

“ _Mmm_ , Doombots,” Wade says, voice low and rumbling.

Peter chokes on his tongue. Which is just _great_.

Domino pats him on the back, looking mildly startled, but mostly exasperated. “Jesus Christ, are you trying to make the guy explode, Wade? And what’s so great about doombots?”

“Ooooooh, nothing,” Wade says.

At the same time Peter franticly shouts, “Nothing! Nothing at all!”

Domino continues to stare between then for so long that Peter begins to sweat. “Something happened with doombots.” She taps her finger against her chin and hums.

Peter looks at Wade with wide eyes, but he’s casually leaning against the door now, examining his glove-covered nails. He should probably leave now, right? This girl has some kind of lucky powers. She’ll guess correctly on the first try.

Too late.

“Is that when you—”

“My point is,” Peter starts way to loud, but it makes Domino snap her mouth shut with a vicious smirk. He lowers his voice, “I can take care of myself. You don’t need to worry.”

“Right, right, right,” Wade says, waving his hand near his right ear. Peter tracks the movement with narrowed eyes. “No need to worry. Why would I worry. It’s just Weapon X. The people who tricked me into torture, madness, and deformity.”

Guilt springs up somewhere near his sternum. “Wade—”

Just then his spider sense tingles along the back of his neck. He has a second to wonder why before the door Wade was leaning against is sliding open. Wade, being the asshat that he is, falls out with a thumbs up.

Peter’s jumping through the door in an instant. His fingers catch the bottom of the door frame, the little hairs automatically sticking. A _thwip_ of his web shooter can’t be heard over the blaring winds. When it doesn’t pull tight right away, Peter feels the panic set in, but then after a second too long, it catches.

Thinking fast, Peter lifts his feet to stick them to the bottom of the plane, and use both hands to reel Wade in. It’s awkward and even with his mask on, his eyes can barley stay open.

When his hands touch a solid body, Peter quickly attaches Wade to his back and lugs them back inside. The door slams shut behind him, and without the raging winds, everything is suddenly too quiet and too loud at once. But Peter doesn’t get lost like last time.

No, because he’s fucking furious.

“HOLY SHIT,” Wade yells, still attached to his back.

Peter yanks off the webs that are holding him. “The hell is wrong with you?” Wade opens his mouth. “No! You can’t just jump off a plane like that! God! You didn’t even have a parachute. You didn’t even know where you would land. I don’t even think were at the ‘jumping off a plane’ altitude right now.”

“No need to worry, Spidey,” Wade says darkly.

Peter screeches. _Screeches_. And reaches his hands out to grab Wade’s shoulders. “Is this…Is this some type of _lesson_?” When Wade only shrugs, Peter growls. “I could strangle you right now, you know that?”

“I think we all could,” comes a dangerously low voice. Peter doesn’t have to look behind him to know that it’s a very pissed off Captain America. “Get in your seats and stay there. We’re landing in half an hour. No more of this shit.”

Peter gulps. Oh god, he’s so pissed. Cap never swears around them.

When none of the surrounding team members move, his face turns an alarming color. “That is an order!”

Peter makes for the closest seat, only to be yanked back when he gets stuck. “No, no, no,” he whispers. He tries to pull his hands back to himself, but they won’t budge. Peter looks from where his hands are glued to Wade’s shoulders and up to the alpha’s face.

“So…what’s this all about?”

He can feel the panic rising, how his breath catches with every inhale and how his senses expand and narrow. He catches the slight tick of Wade’s head as he listens to his boxes and the way he tenses just so under his fingers. Peter grits his teeth and breaths deeply through his nose, focusing unashamedly on the smell of cinnamon and fire that Wade gives off.

He’s going to have nightmares about this mission for the rest of his life.

Cap coughs behind them.

“You rip my suit off, there might be bigger problems that Weapon X.” If it weren’t for Wade’s wiggling eyebrows, he would think he was seriously angry.

“Kid, you okay?”

Wade growls, actually _growls_ , at Captain America, and it’s not the small, omegan growls Peter was using. It’s deep and angry, possessive and all alpha. Peter’s almost happy that he’s stuck to Wade, because if he wasn’t, he would be on his knees. As it is, his legs shake wildly under him.

Wade’s hands find his hips, holding him steading. “He’s fine,” he says, voice almost unrecognizable.

There are a few moments of silence before he hears Cap walk away. Peter doesn’t really know what’s going on anymore. Captain America, Steve Rogers, walking away from a fight. Wade acting like… _this_. His stupid, sticky fingers.

“There you go, Spidey. Just breath.” Wade’s voice is back to normal. His thumbs have started to rub small circles on his hips. Peter bites his tongue at the feeling.

“I’m still pissed at you,” he hisses. “You can’t do that. What even was the point?”

Wade shrugs. “Had to make sure you were in top form. Can’t have you going in halfcocked.”

Peter grows and tries to tug his hands off the alphas ridiculously large shoulders. Stupid alphas and their stupid muscles and their stupid scents. Wade plants himself firmly to the floor so he stops flailing with Peter’s movements. “I’m not halfcocked, Wade. If anything, I’m fullycocked, out of control, ready to kick ass, take names, save the day. All of it.”

Wade grabs Peter’s wrists, right under where his web shooter sit and then he starts _rubbing_ there like how he did at his hips. Peter freezes. “You’ve had a rough day already. And these people, baby boy. You don’t know. I was there. I was with them for months. I’m not taking any chances of you being hurt, and you have the most dangerous job.” He laughs here, a panicked sound. “How did that happen, again? I don’t remember planning that.”

Peter’s only half listening, too busy freaking out about the wrist thing. His glands are _right there_. “I-I can totally do dangerous jobs.”

Wade must not notice the waver in his voice, which is crazy because it’s not subtle. “I know you can.”

And then, Wade pulls Peter’s hands gently away from his shoulders and stares down at them. Peter does, too, mouth hanging open in shock.

“Huh,” Wade says. Then he must realize what he just did, what he’s still doing, because he drops Peter’s hands like they burned him. “Shit, I just did that. I did that, didn’t I?”

Peter nods. “Yep. Yeah. You just touched my, uh, a lot, yeah.”

“Fuck. I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t ask.”

This. This right here is one of the biggest reasons why Peter has liked Wade for years. He’s not like the asshole alphas he dealt with in high school or the ones he now deals with in college. He’s not like the ones he apprehends on a nightly basis or the creepy leering ones he runs into in everyday life. He doesn’t just know about consent. He _understands_ it.

And of course, that’s when Peter starts purring again.

Wade looks at him like he’s lost his mind, but he can smell the sweetening in the alpha’s scent, like someone poured warm honey in tea. He knows what it means down in his bones. Wade is _pleased_. Peter feels the now familiar rush of blood to his face.

He gestures stupidly at himself. “As you can tell, it’s okay, but your still an ass for jumping out the plan.”

Looking mystified, Wade nods. “Yeah, totally still as ass.”

Peter feels it as the plane angles down. They really need to find their seats. But before that, he wants to do something. Feeling more than a little smug, he makes sure Wade is watching as he presses the spider on his chest twice.

He can’t feel it as his classic red and blue suit switches to solid black, but he can see Wade’s eyes widen behind his mask, and his mouth pop open in surprise.

“Oh em gee, baby,” Wade says gleefully. “You look so hot like that.”

Peter’s purring gets louder, but he does his best to ignore it. There’s no way he can control it, anyway. “You think I’m ready for my big, dangerous mission now?”

“Fuck, yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alibaba_02 for even more purring, Orange_Coyote for more Domino, Crioch for Peter sticking to Wade, silentstark for a little big of Peter redeeming himself, Those "Ideas" you Ashed for, Kind of. (Not really) for a dash an alphaed out Wade and for Peter saving Wade(from his own stupidity). 
> 
> I think I got everyone for this chapter?? More to come next time! :D


	7. How About a Little Badassery with a Side of Disaster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Shows up like a week late) I'm here! I'm here!  
> I think the -20 degree weather froze half my brain along with everything else. Sigh. But seriously, I struggled with this chapter. Things are talking a little bit of a more serious turn for a while, and my brain kind of malfunctioned cause all it wants to do is write cute fluff. So I tried to balance it between more serious mission stuff and cute Peter and funnyish Wade. I hope it worked!   
> Enjoy!!!

They need to make sure to get all the information from these Weapon X people, so that’s why Peter is scaling up the nondescript building on the outskirts of some foreign city, Natasha’s legs in a vice-like grip around his hips. He offered to strap her in with webbing, but she refused.

“Not good if we have incoming,” she had said, and Peter only shrugged.

The rest of the team is still in the plane, waiting for them to get the good stuff before they come in guns blazing. It still doesn’t guarantee that the hostages will be safe, but Peter knows that in these types of situations there never is a guarantee.

He’s snuck into lots of buildings before, by himself and with other supers. It’s much the same thing: allow his Stark tech to find the cameras so he can avoid them, go fast and quiet, listen to his spidey sense if it picks anything up, ext.

It’s been a constant hum in the back of his head since the plane landed, steadily getting worse as he climbs onto the roof of the building. Natasha drops down as soon as he’s standing, and studies something on the watch-like thing on her wrist. Peter’s not sure what it does, but it’s distinctively Stark tech.

“This way,” she says, voice a quiet hum.

They jog across the roof, coming to a stop in front of a lonely door. Now, usually Peter would go for a window, and he’s about to suggest it when he sees the security card reader, the lights that will no doubt flash red, and the little speakers for a whaling siren. Natasha bats his hand away when he tries to touch, a small growl the only warning he gets. Peter huffs.

“I know you ain’t growling at my Spidey.”

The voice is so close to Peter that he jumps and curses.

Natasha rolls her eyes at him, and points to her ear. Right, the team comm devices. His suit must have connected automatically.

“This isn’t the time, Deadpool,” she says, and then she glares at Peter like it’s _his_ fault that Wade said something.

“Well, it wasn’t very nice,” Peter mumbles as he inspects his web shooters. His heart is beating a little too fast, and jitters run through his limbs. He’s trying to stay calm, to stay in control, but after all the events of the day, he’s hyped up, ready to get to the action.

This time, Natasha ignores him, and places her watch in front of the ID scanner. Before Peter has time to start really panicking, the lights flash green, and the door clicks open.

And, alright, it’s cool. Not as cool as busting through a window, but whatever.

The second they walk through the door, Peter’s spidey sense zings up his neck. His hand flies out, shooting web before he thinks about it. But it’s not a vicious attacker, it’s a camera mounted high on the wall.

“You think they saw us?” Peter asks.

Natasha nods, but she doesn’t look worried. “Probably.”

“Who saw you?”

Peter’s not going to say he jumped, but he jumped. _Again_.

“Keep doing that, Wilson, and you’re going to give him a heart attack,” Natasha says, and Peter hurries to catch up to her as she starts down the stairway, going as far as to stick himself to the wall to crawl in front. “Now, let us do our jobs. We’ll tell you when we’re ready for you.”

Wade grumbles something undistinguishable over the comms, and Peter’s stomach flutters just a little bit. They talked through the whole plane landing, well, Wade gave Peter unnecessary fighting tips when it comes to the Weapon X people. Domino kept jumping in with her ideas, too, going as far as to describe some of the missions she went on with Deadpool.

Wade was quick to silence her, saying Peter’s ears were too delicate for that kind of story. Peter had scoffed. Like Wade hadn’t told him about the correct way to dismember a certain special male “appendage” at least ten different times… in at least ten different ways.

All in all, he’s not going to be doing any of the stabby, killy things that the two told him about.

“They’re coming. I can hear them.”

How could he not? It’s like a heard of buffalo rushing up the stairs.

Peter picks up his speed, and motions for Natasha to stand back. He ignores her eyeroll and grumbling, even if it’s involves an uncalled insult about him trying to show off.

This is his part of the mission for a reason.

And that reason comes into play when he stands at the top of the next flight of stairs, _thwips_ out a web to attach to the ceiling, and swings, feet out in front of him, straight at the rushing mob of Weapon X bad guys, while yelling, “Watch your step!”

He webs up the fallen bad guys in ten seconds flat, wincing at their groaning and cursing. _They kidnapped a kid and who knows how many others to experiment on_ , he reminds himself. They don’t deserve his pity.

Sighing to himself, he hurries down the stairs with Natasha, finding the third floor and bursting through the door. Mr. Stark said the computer room is located here, and after webbing up more bad guys, dodging a few bullets in the process, he leaves Natasha to do her secret spy stuff.

He’s got hostages to find.

It’s not as dangerous as Wade made him believe. Most of the bad guys must have rushed up the stairs at them, because he only runs into a few on each level.

“This is weird,” he says out loud.

This time it’s Cap’s voice that comes over the comms. “What’s weird?”

Peter spins around, taking in the emptiness of the ground floor. His spider sense remains at a steady four. “There’s like nobody here. Are you sure this is the right place? We’re not busting up some rando building, right?”

There’re a few moments of silence, where Peter spots another door he hasn’t checked, before Natasha says, “It’s the right building.”

“You got everything, Nat?” Cap asks.

Peter pauses in the doorway, his spidey sense rocking up to at least a seven, making him feel slightly dizzy. It’s coming from inside. Sticking his hand around the corner, Peter locates the light switch. And there’s… stairs.

Of course. These people probably have some creepy dungeon or something.

He must have missed part of the conversation, because the next think he knows, Wade’s yelling, “Time for Daddy to express some rage!”

There has to be something wrong with Peter, because the sound that leaves his throat isn’t a noise that he’s familiar with. It isn’t a noise that he _wants_ to be familiar with, either. There’s a deadly silence that follows. Peter bangs his head on the wall next to him. “Aaaaand you all just heard whatever the hell that was. Great.”

“I think I just phoenixed,” Wade says in a whisper that’s in no way quiet.

Tony curses over the comm. “Do we want to know?”

“Like died and reborn…in my pants.”

Peter almost swallows his own tongue. _Oh, my lord._

“Jesus fuck, man,” Clint says. “Get away from me.”

_Oh, my god._

Peter gives himself five seconds. Five seconds to deal with a total mess of stupid feelings, and then he shakes his head.

_Focus. The kid. The hostages. Evil experiments._

“I’m headed downstairs,” he says, and his voice isn’t choked up at all. No, it’s totally not. “That must be where the hostages are.”

“Be careful, kid,” Mr. Stark says. “There has to be more people here. They must be hiding. I’m having JARVIS do a scan of the place.”

“Wait for me!”

The smile that spreads across his face would be called disgusting or sickening if half of the team saw it. “I’ll meet you down there.” The quicker he gets the hostages, the quicker the team can really blast the place apart. After getting all the people out, of course. Because, no matter how bad Weapon X is, Peter’s not going to let the supers kill a whole building full of people.

The lights along the stairwell are dim and flickering. For evil aesthetic purposes, probably. Peter rolls his eyes. If these guys can steal other people, then they should be able to steal a couple new lightbulbs, right?

Peter chooses to use the ceiling instead of the creepy, creaky stairs, and he’s down in seconds. The smell is enough to make him gag. A sick combination of fear, pain, misery, and all the unfortunate bodily functions that come with. Under it, he catches hints of people. Scents of musty alphas and sweet omegas.

Fists clenched and preparing for the worst, Peter flicks another light switch on. He’s greeted with a hollowed-out basement, dirty curtains dividing the place into rooms. He searches through the each of them, finding some of the most disgusting things he’s ever came across.

But there’s no hostages. No people at all.

“Hello?” he tries, but after waiting a few seconds, there isn’t an answer.

He continues farther into the basement, following the most potent scent— a tangy and bitter combination like harsh cleaning products mixed with blood. It leads him to a tucked away door in the far corner of the room. Peter’s heart pounds. They’ve got to be in there.

He pushes through the heavy door, and rushes inside. It’s a small, square room. The light from behind him is enough to illuminate the pristine floor and walls, but Peter doesn’t see anything that tells him what happens in here.

“Hello?” he tries again even if his hope is dwindling.

If the hostages aren’t here, then he’s not sure where else to look. He wonders if JARVIS has picked anything up yet. Eyes narrowing, Peter finally enters the room. It doesn’t even take a second for his mask to engage night vision, and he sweeps carefully through the room. If he can just find one clue—

“Fuck!” His spidey sense blast through his head with enough force that his knees try to buckle under him. A loud _BANG_! rings out behind him and rattles his skull. Clenching his teeth, Peter looks at the closed door, and lunges forward, but the grating sound of locks engaging has already stopped.

His heart pounds so hard that he can feel it in his toes.

_You’re not going to have a panic attack right now. You’re not having a panic attack. Not now. Not now._

Growling, Peter grabs for the door handle, but there isn’t one. He kicks out at the door instead. It rattles and rattles but there’s no dent in the thick metal like there should be.

Right, evil experiments for mutates. These people would be prepared for someone with super strength.

“Oh, my god. I am not this stupid,” he mumbles. “I am not this stupid. This isn’t happening.”

The comms burst with sound, every member of the team trying to ask what’s going on at the same time, but it’s too much. Too much noise, too loud, too close.

Peter rips his mask off, casting the room back into complete darkness. The sounds of his team fade, and a soft hissing fills the room.

“No. No, no, no.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think that's like the first real cliffhanger I've ever done...It feels so good.
> 
> Time for shout outs!! 
> 
> Silentstark for more spider redemption and badassery, LadyLasara for Peter trying to show off (I think I should have added you last ch too), HollyLeah for the team talking through comms (I know its not exactly what you asked for, but I tried!) 
> 
> Thank you all!


	8. Well... at least it's not hormone related, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woop! Hello, lovely people! Here's chapter Eight. Sorry I made you wait so long after that cliffhanger. I had real life stuff and blah blah blah.  
> Anywayy, I'm not totally happy with this chapter. I feel like it goes way too fast, but I still think it's okay. Maybe it's just cause I miss Wade. BUT next chapter is all him! That's right folks. Our crazy, loveable merc. The one and only DEADPOOL is hosting the next chapter. I'm so excited to write it! 
> 
> And I just want to send out like a million thank yous to everyone who read, kudos, comments, bookmarks, and subscribes to this story. You are seriously all so amazingly supportive and I feel your love!!

Peter has seen enough movies, been in enough situations to know what that hissing sound is. He drops the floor, his hands franticly running over the cold tiles. “Where’d it go? Where’d it go?” he mumbles to himself. If he can find his mask and put it back on, he should be safe from the gas, but he only has seconds, if that, to find it.

Staying low to the ground, he goes in the direction he thinks it landed. His spidey sense has been pounding through his head since the door slammed shut. It’s making it hard to think.

Or maybe that’s the gas, maybe it’s already gotten to him. Usually, his healing factor is enough to hold off certain effects, but he’s been breathing too fast, and maybe…maybe— he doesn’t know. His movements become more desperate. Peter curses himself. He should have brought his other suit like Mr. Stark wanted him to. The mask doesn’t come off on that one, not unless he wants it too, and it can cover his face again with just a thought. Nano tech, just like Mr. Stark’s suits. He shouldn’t have been so cocky, so sure that he could handle anything that was thrown at him.

“A little extra protection never hurt anyone, Peter.” Aunt May has been telling him that since she found out he was Spiderman, and, of course, he never listens.

Light explodes around him, so bright that for a moment all he wants to do is claw his eyes out. He’s only an inch away from running head first into a wall, but before he can spot the black mask, a small nasally voice sounds from behind him.

“So, that’s what you look like.”

Peter spins around, a growl already working through his chest. If he could panic any harder than he is right now, he’d be in the world record book. It’s hard to smell the guy over the chemicals and blood, but it’s there. Musty and strong. An alpha.

The man wears obnoxiously well-fitting jeans and a tight grey V-neck shirt. Because, of course he does. What else would an evil villain wear when they’re kidnapping and torturing people?

And then there’s the stylish gas mast strapped securely to his face.

Peter sneers. “You wear that to kids’ birthday parties, too?”

The man ignores him. “I always thought you were an alpha, not that it matters anymore. Actually, it works out better than I hoped.” He shuffles around on his feet with a creepy, earnest look on his face. Goosebumps run along Peters limbs. “Did you know that omegan bodies are more prone to accepting foreign chemicals and bacteria?”

“Where’d you learn that?” Peter grumbles, making sure the man sees his eye roll. “Seventh grade biology?”

“It’s a proven fact.”

“Yeah, just like how you’re going to win this somehow, right? Do whatever you’re going to do to me and escape without the Avengers catching you? I’d like to see that.”

And seriously, what is this guy thinking. Isn’t it a well-known fact by now that supers tend to throw themselves in front of Spiderman to keep him out of danger even though he repeatedly tells them _not to_. Maybe this far from America, in wherever England, they don’t. Interesting.

Anyway, and then there’s Wade.

This time Peter groans. “Oh, god. He’s so going to kill you.”

Maybe that’s why Peter’s not worried about this guy seeing his face. He’s known in the back of his mind all along. Wade isn’t going to let him live, not after knowing about the evil guy locking him in a blood scented room, gassing him, and trying to make weird small talk.

Mr. Stark is going to be so pissed.

“No,” the stylish villain says. “I think they’ll all be a little too busy trying to take care of you, Spiderman. You see, the chemicals in that gas should be affecting you soon, and that door is meant to withhold against someone with the Hulk’s impressive strength.”

“Won’t you be trapped in here with me then?” Peter asks, cocking his head.

With raised eyebrows, the man points to the back of the room where another, smaller door stands.

Peter lunges towards it, but the guy’s fast. And strong, Peter realizes after he runs right into the guy’s outstretched arm, and stumbles back, stunned. With Peter’s strength and agility, a move like that should’ve broken the guy’s arm at the shoulder, but all he does is smirk.

“We can’t have that, now can we?”

And seriously, this guy’s villain lingo is on point. And by ‘on point’ he means typical, boring, and unoriginal.

Peter stands in front of him, breathing heavily. The man’s brows furrow together as if he’s assessing Peter. And that’s when Peter’s world tilts and blurs. He shakes his head like a wet dog and blinks hard enough that spots crowd his vision.

Something comes out from behind the man, gaining mass and attaching to his body.

“Fuck.” Peter knows what that is, _who_ that is. “Hey, buddy. Didn’t know you found a new host.”

Venom’s impossibly large mouth stretches into a smile. “It’s workingggg,” he hisses.

With a sinking feeling in his gut, Peter watches as Venom grows larger, blocking out the man until he’s four…five times as big. He curses under his breath. Venom’s never been this huge before, at least not that Peter has ever seen. Shooting a web at the alien’s hulking mass, Peter gets ready to launch himself at him, but the web misses.

Well, not misses. It goes _through_ him.

“That’s new,” Peter mumbles.

Venom snickers and says…well, Peter doesn’t know what he says. It’s all jumbled up and hissing.

Somethings not right. Definitely not right.

His heart beats faster with every second that passes. He knows the feeling well enough that soon, breathing will become harder and harder. Venom blurs a little around the edges as he moves, but he’s slower than usual, and Peter quickly darts past him. The door is only a few feet away, and behind that are scents. _Human_ scents.

The hostages.

Just as he’s about to reach the door, a hand latches into the back of his suit and yanks him off his feet. He goes flying through the air, then smashes against the wall. Groaning, Peter raises to his feet.

When he turns, Venom’s face is sinking back to reveal the evil guy’s amused face, but instead of dark, rough features, there’s a small nose, a familiar pair of eyes.

“Aunt May?” Peter feels sick. He watches as her face contorts into obvious pain, but before he can get his frozen body to move, she shifts even further.

Venom’s black ooze sinks back into pale skin, blossoming with dark bruises. And now it’s Mr. Stark. Mr. Stark looking at him with madness in his eyes. Then, his body curls into itself and grows bigger, bulkier again. It doesn’t even finish forming before he knows who it is. Wade.

“Peter. Peter. Peter,” their voices whisper in a twisted harmony.

Bile coats his mouth. His brain feels like liquid about to run right out his ears.

He needs to get out of here. _Now_.

It quickly becomes the only concrete thought in his mind. Peter makes for the door, not the one behind the everchanging body, but the one he foolishly came through without waiting for another team member to join him. He’s used to holding back his strength, but he lets loose now. Punches and kicks pound into the door, and he can feel the thick metal give under his assault, but when he looks at it, there’s nothing there.No dents, no marks. Nothing.

He doesn’t even want to look behind, doesn’t want to know what he will see next, who he will see next, but a small voice interrupts their vicious melody. “Spiderman?”

_Oh, god. No._

Peter doesn’t even think. He flings around and races towards the boy, but as soon as his hands land on the kid’s fragile shoulders, something weird happens. Black flecks appear on his skin, trickling along his arms and up his neck, crawling into his short hair, and nudging past his lips.

He snatches his hands back on instinct. “W-what’s happening? Spiders?”

He swipes the spiders off the kid, but more keep coming. “Spiderman.” This time the words are garbled, and when Peter looks up, he flinches back in surprise. The kid’s eyes are black, completely black. And then he smiles a cruel, yellow smile.

Peter falls back, flat on his butt, and stares up at the boy.

Then, crashing and yelling sound from behind him, banging into his head painfully. Peter does what any rational person would do in this situation. He grabs the terrifying little boy, gathers him in his arms, and takes to the nearest corner. The hand that's not holding the boy's head to his chest is pointed, steadily towards the vicious, furious roaring. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodness, our poor Petey… :(
> 
> Shout out time!  
> A huge thank you to ImPanicingAtTheDisco for somehow giving me the inspiration of the mist from your awesome Asprin thingy (I'm not sure what to call it, but I love it). Unix015, Crioch, alibaba_02, and hazelcelt for Peter getting hurt/into trouble during the mission, and alibaba_02 again for Peter and the kid (more to come on that).


	9. Who Ya Gonna Call? The Crazy Alpha Mercenary, Of Course!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Hello, lovely readers! My excuse for taking so long: new job training. Barf.   
> But don't worry! I'm going to finish this fic even if it kills me!   
> Okay so I actually decided to split this chapter in half because it ended up being a little longer than I thought and I'm weird and want all the chapters to be around the same length, but that means the next chapter is almost done, and hopefully I'll have time to finish it by the end of the week. 
> 
> Anyway! Enjoy Wade and his boxes. And idk why he disses Stark tech so much... it just happened.

Cap had a plan for this. A plan that Wade hadn’t bothered to listen to, because if there way one thing he was sure about was that if something happened to Spidey, he was going to do whatever it took to save him. Whatever it took plus a few extra things, because who was he hiding? His level of control is the same as a kid with unrestricted access to a cookie jar.

And everyone knows that Spidey is his favorite type of cookie…or something like that.

Wade skids to a stop in front of a busted-up door. The scents lead him here — a mixture of Spidey, blood, and strong chemicals. He’s going to be having nightmares about this particular blend of scents. Most likely for the rest of his life. So, indefinitely.

Bullet holes litter his suit, but the skin under it is already healed up. The bad guys— guards, torturers, hired help, evil assclows, whatever you want to call them, attacked almost as soon as Spidey’s comm cut out. Like they were waiting for that exact moment to burst from their hiding places. They were lucky that JARVIS was able to warn them, even if it was only seconds before.

_O_ _verrated Stark Tech._

**_What happened to good old scenting?_ **

Wade growls louder than he meant to. “Not now, guys. We gotta save Spidey.”

_Yeah, no way we’re going to let these fuckers hurt him._

That brings him back to the door. Spidey is obviously behind it. There are imprints of small fists bulging through the metal like someone was punching at it from the other side. And two of the hinges are busted off from the pressure.

Wade’s eyesight gets a little hazy as he studies the door, pacing back and forth in front of it. Already his control is slipping, the alpha in him ready to snap.

“Spidey’s back there,” he mumbles to himself. “Smells weird, though.”

_Yeah, like our favorite drug._

**_And like Spidey on the plane. All bitter instead of sugary._ **

_Except worse._

Wade growls and reaches for his katanas. The soft hiss as they leave their sheaths is the only sound in the entire basement, and then, “Deadpool.” Wade growls again at Stark’s voice. “Did you find him? Something is interfering with JARVIS. A magnetic wave or something. I’m working to disable it now, but—”

“I found him,” Wade interrupts. “Smells like they drugged him with something. Smells familiar.”

“Well, how is he? Is he hurt?”

Wade takes three big steps back from the door he was examining. “These fuckers better hope not,” he says, but even he can tell that his voice is garbled into a barely understandable mess.

“What? I can’t understand you anymore.” When Wade doesn’t answer, he asks, “Where are you?” A few beats of silence, then, “I swear to God, Wilson.”

Wade almost does the same as Spidey and disables his comm, but even with how close to the edge he feels, even when his messed-up skin prickles uncomfortably and his throat burns from growling, he knows that would be a bad idea.

Still.

Through clenched teeth, Wade says, “Stop talking.”

And then he’s stalking forward and jamming his katanas into the last hinge of the door, pulling and tearing it apart until the small mechanism busts. With a victorious roar, he rips the door out of the way. It smashes to the ground with a near deafening _bang_ , but the silence after sounds even louder.

Wade walks over the thick metal door and enters the room.

His eyes immediately narrow on Spidey, crouched in the corner with a small dark-skinned boy curled tightly to his chest. The usual sweet, vanilla base of his scent is overpowered by bitter limes and too much salt. He’s terrified. Which doesn't really make sense, because there's only one other guy in the room. He's not surrounded, but...

He’s also maskless. Wade knew in the back of his head that he would be, that it would be the only reason why his comm had cut out, but he’s still not fully prepared. And he’s not talking about his features. No, he can’t really even focus on that right now.

He’s not prepared for the wave of _rage_ and _protect_ that consumes him.

Wade takes one look at Spidey’s eyes— wide, glazed, unfocused. And painfully swallows around a growl. The last thing he needs to do now is scare him even more.

Something ticks in his brain, a piece falling into place. _Hallucinogenic_. That’s the kind of drug this familiar chemical smell is. Brief flashes of contorted bodies and nightmarish faces saying traumatizing words fill his mind.

He turns to the other person in the room, already trying to make a break for it out the back door, and then he raises his arm and throws his katana right for him. Not to kill, but to trap.

The point of his sword zings through the material of the guy’s shirt, then through the muscle of his arm, only centimeters from piercing bone, and pins him back against the wall. A howling yell leaves his throat.

The all too familiar smell of fear clouds the room. Behind his red and black mask, Wade’s lips pull into a gruesome, too wide smile. From a distant part of his mind, he hears a whimpering sound. The boxes snicker in glee. Until…

 _ **Wait**_.

 _That’s not the assclown_.

Wade looks over at Spidey just in time to see his big brown eyes roll back in his head and his body lump against the wall, his arms falling from around the kid.

_Look what you did. Scared him to death._

**_There goes our perfect mate._ **

“He’s not dead,” Wade growls. “It’s the drugs. We don’t know what he’s seeing.”

Or, more accurately, what he _saw_. Still, Wade’s stomach burns with anger and fear. He should have prepared Spidey better for this. He should have prepared the whole team better, but no one wants to listen to the insane mercenary. No, why would he know what he’s talking about? It’s not like he spent his whole life surrounded by sick fucks or anything.

After a quick look at the pinned bad guy, Wade rolls his neck and sighs. “Right. You,” he says, pointing at the guy, “stay there, buddy. We’re going to have some fun, but first—” Wade looks around the weirdly spotless floor. A few feet to the right lays Spidey’s mask, crumpled but back to its normal red. He snatches it up and walks over to where Spidey is passed out with the kid still in his lap.

Tears shine in the kid’s eyes and fall down his cubby cheeks. Wade crouches down in front of him, only to reel back in disgust at the rotten, bitter smell of complete and utter fear. Every smell of fear is unpleasant, but a kid’s? It’s one of the worse smells in the entire multiverse.

Wade breaths through his mouth. “Hey, there. You’re Kyle, right?” The kid doesn’t move. “I came with Spiderman to save you from these evil guys. I’m not going to hurt you, but I need to get you out of here so I can get rid of the bad guy, okay?” At that the kid finally nods. “Here.” Wade hands him the mask. “Can you hold this for Spidey and watch him for me? He’s my best friend, you know.”

“O-okay.”

“Okay, great! I’m going to pick you up and put you outside this room, okay? Right outside with Spidey.”

The assclown pinned to the wall is starting to struggle, enraged screams leaving him every other second. Wade shifts over slightly, blocking the kid’s view. When he nods his little head, Wade quickly moves forward, sweeping up Spidey and the kid in one go.

It only takes a few seconds to set them outside the door. There are no signs of the rest of the team in the basement, so he can only guess that they’re still dealing with more bad guys upstairs. He doesn’t know how many of them were hiding, too focused on getting to Spidey to stop and help any of them.

The assclown’s screams get louder with each second, but the kid is still terrified, Spidey is still unconscious, and he can’t help but to stay crouched down in front of them for a few seconds more.

“I know you’re scared. I was just like you once, but it’s almost over, okay? You’re getting out of this place today. Going to go back to your parents, save and sound.”

The kid wipes at the tears on his cheeks, a cute, determined look settles on his face. “There are others in there, too. Behind the door. You need to get them, too.”

“I will.”

“You have to promise.” He holds his little pinky finger out to Wade, eyes narrowed to show how serious he is.

Wade doesn’t hesitate for a moment, hooking his own pinky with the kid’s. “I promise.”

The kid blows out a breath and sinks against Spidey’s chest. Wade’s eyes sweep over Spidey’s face, taking comfort in how his eyes move behind their lids. He looks back at the kid’s too big eyes and suddenly feels nervous. “Hey, um, cover your ears, okay? Keep your ears covered, and don’t move. Don’t look into the room.”

The smell of fear spikes again, causing Wade to flinch a little. “Hey,” he tries to smooth his voice into something less growly, “if you get scared, just put this on, okay? It’ll make you feel brave.” He lightly pulls at the mask that clutched in the kid’s hands. Then he stands up. “Everything will be okay.”

He takes one more look at Spidey and the kid before he turns back around and stalks through the door.

Wade was going to kill this Weapon X guy so hard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutouts!! 
> 
> Alibaba_02 for some Peter, Wade, and the kid stuff. hazelcelt, Crioch, Unix015, and Alibaba_02 for the continuation of Wade saving Peter.


	10. Faceplanting in the Name of Love?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, guys, guys. I've been waiting to write this chapter since I started, and I think it turned out pretty good! I'm excited to hear your thoughts on it! AH! (runs around screaming)

Sam tries to intercept him on the way to the plane, but Wade easily side steps the beta. He needs to get the only semi-conscious Spidey to a secluded area, somewhere safe, dark, warm. The plane will have to do, and no one, not even Death, herself, is going to stop him.

He whispers little things as he half jogs out of the building and across the way. Stuff about how the kid is safe, how the agents that can find his parents are already with him at the front of the building. He tells him about how _he_ is safe, about how they all are.

From his scent it doesn’t do much to help. If Wade were to guess, he’d say that Spidey’s far too gone to even hear him. Usually, talking helps. On late night patrols when his scent turns agitated and embarrassed, Wade would tell him about tv shows or food or past missions until the acidic smell goes away and the sweetness of sugary vanilla and salty lime takes its place.

He climbs the plane stairs in two leaps and pushes at the door with urgency.

“Voice identification,” JARVIS's annoyingly perfect voice says.

A series of growls and curses leaves Wades mouth, then “Why the fuck is he even here?”

“Access granted. Welcome, Deadpool.”

“Yeah, fuck you, buddy.”

Wade steps into the plane and a second later, Irondad is yelling from behind him. “What the hell do you think you’re doing with him?” Wade looks back to see Stark flying towards the plane, the feet and hands of his Ironman suit shooting out blue flame. But that’s the only part of his suit he has on which allows Wade to see the intense anger and fear before he smells it. The dynamic duo and Russian barbie run after him.

“Give him to me,” Stark says when he lands in the plane’s entrance. “Now!”

He yells it so loud that Spidey jerks in his arms. Wade glares at Stark. “I swear to god, Stark. Shut the hell up, or I’ll make you. I don’t care that you’re Spidey’s long lost dad, I’ve been wanting to stick Bea through you for years.”

Maybe it’s the threat or the scent of anger in the air, but Spidey gasps, fully awake. Wade almost drops him with how hard the omega thrashes.

“Put him down right now!” Stark yells.

“Tony, maybe you should let Wilson handle this.”

They both ignore Steve. Wade’s more concerned with Spidey’s breathing. Or the way he can’t seem to breathe. Little aborted chuffs against his neck, and bone crushing fingers wrapped around his arm. He can feel Spidey’s lungs shutter.

When the omega’s big brown eyes flutter open, Stark reaches out to touch his shoulder, but Spidey keens a short high-pitched sound and he jerks back.

He wants to feel smug about that, about how Spidey doesn’t want Stark, he wants him, but something in him snaps, pushes to the forefront of him mind. He’s felt this before, in the heat of battle, in the throes of torture. It’s not often that he can’t hold back his feral side, but when his omega is in danger, when he’s in so much pain, he doesn’t even fight it.

Wade barely sees it as Stark stumbles back into the others. He’s already manhandling Spidey and pinning him against the plane wall. He’s got a hand at Spidey’s throat, the other pressed hard against his abdomen. Spidey struggles against his hold, and even though he should be able to break it, should be able to push Wade straight to the back of the plane, he doesn’t. He acts like he _can’t_.

A low grumbling vibrates through his chest, and he presses closer so his omega can feel it. Then Wade uses his thumb to tilt his head up. Wide, red-rimmed, and panicked eyes, the same glazed look he saw back in that little room. The gas, drugs, whatever is still affecting him.

Wade tears his mask off, tossing it to the floor uncaring. Then he attacks the collar of his suit, ripping it aside to bare his neck.

“I need you to breathe, baby boy.” His voice is like a chainsaw. “Nice and deep and slow, okay?”

_**That’s what she said.** _

_More like that’s what he said._

They’re still pushed up against the plane wall, close to the open doorway where Cap, Bucky, and the Black Widow hold Stark back, and Wade needs to get Spidey somewhere _safer_ , somewhere hidden away where he can calm the omega down.

The rational part of his brain, and trust him it’s all but gone right now, tells him that there isn’t a place here, not in this plane, in a foreign country, next to a former Weapon X facility. Still, the majority of his brain has him grabbing Spidey by the back of the neck in a typical dominating alpha way and lifting him with a hand behind one of his shaking knees.

An omegan growl from behind him has Wade baring his teeth. Of course, Stark doesn’t get the picture, or maybe he does, and just doesn’t care. “Stop manhandling him around, Wilson. He’s having another panic attack, and you said there was some kind of drugs. We can’t question that guy who was in the room with him about it, because you killed him.”

Wade smiles cruelly. Killed is a soft word for what he did.

“And look at you,” Stark continues despite the Widow trying to glare him to death. “You’re covered in the guy’s blood. Do you really think that’s going to help Peter?”

“Yes,” Wade says, carefully cataloging _Peter_ in his head, and ignoring how the boxes squeal at the name. Then he gives the three behind Stark a pointed look, one that says, _You deal with him_.

The bathroom would be perfect for what he needs. It’s dark, secluded, there’s a door with a lock, but when he gets in there, there’s almost no room to even turn his shoulders. It would be a tight fit with just him, but with Spidey too? It won’t work.

Growling, Wade turns back around. Stark has followed him, only a couple feet away. Wade gives him credit, his omega parenting instincts are stronger than he thought. The trio behind him stay silent and watching, but their bodies are tense, ready to strike out if they need to.

He needs better backup. Where’s Domino when you need her? 

_**Just do it, boss**. _

_Y_ _eah, look at him. Poor Petey._

That makes Wade’s attention zero in on the omega in his arms. In the few minutes he was distracted by Stark and trying to find a perfect place, Spidey’s breathing has gotten weaker. Wade can feel his heart pounding against his collarbone.

**_We can bring him home when he’s better._ **

_Our place is so dark and safe and comfy, isn’t it? We got it just for him, remember?_

“Yeah,” Wade mumbles back.

They did get it with Spidey in mind. He had felt a little dirty when he first realized it. Buying an apartment, thinking about how much a certain underage omega would love it. He refused to step foot in it for a whole year, sticking to his filthy safehouse instead. It wasn’t until he started meeting up with Spidey, until the omega’s scent started to mature, signaling that he was almost there, almost old enough, that he started putting actual furniture in it.

He officially moved in a few months ago.

It was in that moment, that Stark lunged forward and grabbed Spidey by the hips, trying to pull him from Wade’s grip. Wade snarls. Spidey makes one of those high-pitched noises again, and Wade reaches for his katana. The slightest movement and it would be drawn and at Stark’s neck, but somehow, the Widow vaults over the plane seats and gets in front of Stark. At the same time, Cap yells his name.

“Wade,” he says again, “just take care of Spiderman, okay?”

Stark looks so betrayed that Wade wants to laugh, but he doesn’t give himself the time to. He props Spidey against the back row of seats, and takes a good look at his face, takes a good sniff of his scent, gaging his emotions, but Wade already knows what he needs. He’s known it since he walked through that door and seen Spidey curled up around that kid.

He doesn’t really think that Spidey can hear him, but he starts explaining. “You’re a special kind of omega, you know that, baby boy?” He bends down a little to get eye to eye. Still wide, panicked, glassy, but they focus on him. “But you know that I’ll take care of you, right?”

Spidey shutters, and Wade almost wishes he had his webbed mask on, because the way his eyes roll back is one of the most unsettling images he’s ever seen. And he’s seen a lot.

“Move,” Wade orders. He doesn’t know if it’s to himself, or to the other tree, but it doesn’t matter, because they all do. Wade lugs Spidey’s all but limp body around the seats and pushes the omega down to his knees. Then he takes a seat in front of him. “Widow, you might want to start explaining so I don’t have to shoot anyone.”

“Peter’s special,” she starts, not wasting a second. “You know that, guys. You’ve spent enough time with him. There are other omegas like him, too. Everyone just assumed it was from his mutation, and sure, that probably just made it worse, but he would have been like this even if he hadn’t been bitten.”

“Gonna have to go faster than that,” Wade interrupts. He palms Spidey’s cheek and grips the back of his neck, using his thumb to rub along the glands under his ear. Spidey makes a soft, confused sound. His hands twitch up to grab at Wade’s knees.

_Good. That’s a good sign._

_**Just wait for what comes next**. _

“Let’s just say that he’s more in tune with his omegan side than most. You can ask Bruce about it all you want when we get back, Tony, but right now we just need to let Wade, _his alpha_ , fix this. He knows what to do.” Her voice gets deeper with every word and by the end a hint of a growl is noticeable.

“Oh, yeah?” Stark says. “And what’s he going to do?”

It’s the perfect time to ask the question, because not a second later, Wade takes his hand off Spidey’s too hot cheek and reaches for his own crotch instead. The zipper sounds way more unnerving than it should.

“Sorry about this, baby,” Wade says. Then he smooshes Spidey’s face forward.

Wade is so tuned into Spidey’s scent that the effect the glands around his groin have is instantaneous. The pungent acidic smell doubles down a good eight notches. It’s not gone, but it’s enough that Spidey’s next breath is deep and full.

The boxes are all but jumping around in his head, dirty thoughts spewing from them. Wade blocks them out as best he can, because _now_ is not the time.

“What the _hell_ do you think you’re doing?” Stark yells. Somehow, he’s gotten out of the Widow’s hold and is hovering above Spidey. The smell of his distress is powerful enough to overpower some of Spidey’s, but Wade doesn’t really care at that moment.

A darker haze takes over his vision as he looks up from petting Spidey’s soft brown hair. His lip pulls up over his teeth in an ugly sneer. “Scents strongest in the groin, dipshit,” he says, keeping a close eye on the older man’s hands. If he reaches for Spidey one more time… “I think we’ve all seen how sensitive Spidey is to scents. Especially mine.”

“Tony,” this time it’s Bucky who speaks up. Wade’s never talked to him much. Hell, he hasn’t seen anyone besides Cap talk to Bucky for more than a few minutes. Bucky’s hand latches firmly on Stark’s shoulder and tugs him back. Stark glares hard at Bucky, but let’s be honest, no one can beat the Winter Smolder. “Wade’s doing the right thing.”

“Let’s leave them alone,” Cap intones. “It seems to be helping. We’ll get the rest of the team in here and get back to the tower so Bruce can take a look at him, alright? Go ahead and give him a call now, Tony, so he can get ready.”

Stark growls again, glaring at them all in turn before marching to the front of the plane and taking his phone out. The other three move slower, but it really doesn’t matter, because as soon as they get a few feet away, Spidey’s head raises a couple inches, and his eyes pop open.

His pupils are blown, taking up all the pretty brown.

_Scent drunk._

_**The best kind of drunk**._

Wade rubs at his cheeks with his thumbs and offers him a small smile.

Peter returns it, and even if it looks a bit watery, it settles something in Wade. He watches Peter take a deep breath, open his mouth to speak, and then promptly pass out, faceplanting back into Wade’s crotch and slumping down to the floor of the plane.

The boxes are silent for all of five seconds before they explode with panic in his head.

_That’s good right?_

_**Please don’t be dead. Please don’t me dead. Please don’t be dead**._

With a little maneuvering, Wade zips up his pants. Then he lifts Spidey into his lap and leans back against the chair, getting comfortable. “He’s not dead,” he mumbles to his boxes. “And yeah, it’s good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout outs to
> 
> Orange_Coyote and SherlockFreakingHolmes(SuperWhoLock10wasmyfirstdoctor) for Natasha sticking up for Wade and Peter. I know you guys wanted her to be the one to save Peter, but I hope this is just as good!


	11. A Phone Call with...Wait, Who is This?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry!! It's been forever, guys. Works been crazy. People going on vaca, getting sick, being 7 months prego… and I've been covering for them all. It's been hard trying to get out of the 'work brain' and into 'fluffy spideypool' brain.   
> But I'm alive! And I've missed you all, so here's the next chapter for ya. I hope you like it :D

“So, I think we all know that I’m not waiting until we get back to the tower to ask my mate about what kind of ‘special omega’ Peter is.”

The ‘I’m like his father. He’s my kid. It’s my job to know everything about him.’ goes unsaid, or, at least, that’s what Wade imagines him saying.

Wade rolls his eyes at Domino above Stark’s head, before he realizes that she probably can’t even tell. He put his mask back on when the others boarded the plane. It’s not pulled down all the way, resting across the bridge of his nose. But by the raised eyebrow and smirk from Domino, Wade thinks she gets it.

Stark gave in about a half hour ago and came to sit across from Wade and Spidey. He gives Stark credit. He held out for way longer than Wade had bet on.

At first, he just sat there and glared, taking in how Spidey slept with his nose pressed to Wade’s uncovered neck and how Wade holds him snuggly against his chest. Wade had spent those twenty or so minutes scowling at the older omega and casting weird looks at Domino. She just silently laughed at him.

“Didn’t you talk to him on the phone?” Wade asks. “Or is he making you wait?” Stark’s eye twitches as it often does when he talks to Wade. “You know, I thought you were some kind of genius. Always the smartest in the room, knows everything about anything, can learn astrophysics overnight, blah, blah, blah.” A wicked smile stretches over his face. “You know, I taught myself how to use a crossbow in under two minutes, and duo staffs, and axes, swords, g—”

“Wilson,” Stark says, voiced pitched lower than normal. “I know you’re not th—”

“Threatening you?” Wade studies his fingernails. He took his gloves off some time ago, noticing the way Spidey relaxed even further at the feel of his bare skin against the back of his neck. “I’ve already done that multiple times today.”

Stark’s face purples and Wade wrinkles his nose at the irritated scent coming off him.

“Remember that time with the ninjas and the flame thrower?” Domino pipes up. “You got that in like a second.”

“That doesn’t count,” Wade pouts. “It had instructions.”

“In Japanese!”

Stark shoots to his feet in irritation, acts like he’s going to walk away, then changes him mind and sits back down with a huff. “Do you even like him, Wilson?” It’s asked in a tired tone.

Stunned silence meets his questions. The alpha in Wade rears its head back, snarling and offended. “Are you fucking shitting me? What kind of fucked question is that?”

“Peter has told me repeatedly that you don’t. He’s been so insistent about it that even I believed him. Either the kids an idiot or we’re really missing something here.” Stark stares at Spidey’s partially hidden face as he says it. Then he looks up at Wade. “So, you’re going to tell me what the hell is going on between you two and this ‘special omega’ shit that everyone is just so accepting about.”

The boxes whine in his head, but Wade’s growling under his breath and frowning down at the omega curled up in his lap. Spidey doesn’t think they like him? That they’re anything but completely obsessed? Wade thought he did a shit job of hiding it through the years, but he must have done something right.

_We should wake him up and tell him now._

**_Nice job, jackoff. You should have listened to us and made a move back with the doombots._ **

Wade mentally shoos the boxes away and tries to shift Spidey impossibly closer. After a few more beats of silence, Wade finally says, “You know all those old omegan stereotypes? The ones no one really believes in anymore. Well, unless their complete assholes.”

At first Stark just rolls his eyes with a muttered, “Yes.”

But then Wade starts to see his all too special wheels turning. No doubt thinking of Spidey’s mannerisms; small, kind, clingy, brave, needy, willing to please, to do anything to protect others and make them happy.

 _A true Hufflepuff_.

There’s other stuff, too. Stuff that Wade’s not going to think about when said omega is passed out in his lap in a plane full of overprotective superheroes.

Wade remembers the multiple times Spidey had went out of his way just to get Wade’s favorite Mexican food, how Spidey has made it a point to give Wade as many ride-a-longs through the city as possible after he said how awesome they are.

When Stark doesn’t say anything else, Wade does the honors. “That’s the kind of omega Spidey is. Of course, he’s still super badass, and super smart, and super strong.” Wade sighs dreamily. “God, he’s perfect, isn’t he?”

Stark still doesn’t move, just stares at Spidey with furrowed eyebrows and a frown. Wade glances at Domino. If there was a time for her to work her luck magic or whatever it is, it would be now.

 ** _Or, you know, when Spidey was trapped and drugged by that douche canoe_**.

Wade’s angry mumbling to his boxes is enough to get Domino to loudly clear her throat. It seems to do the trick. Both Wade and Stark snap out of it.

“That’s why he—” Stark grimaces, points to Spidey then Wade, “with you? Around you.”

“Yup!” Stark stands up. “I need to make a call.”

Wade whistles under his breath when Stark shuts the bathroom door behind him, phone already pressed to his ear. “That went better than I thought it was going to,” he says. “He didn’t even try to hit me.”

Domino rolls her eyes. “Probably because you have his kid in your lap.”

“Which is exactly why he should have,” Wade says, pointing his finger at her.

After that Domino pulls out a Stark Pad from seemingly nowhere and ignores Wade’s mindless chatter. It doesn’t bother him too much. He’s got his favorite person in the world in his lap warm and comfortable and safe. And he’s doing good. He hasn’t killed anyone. Well, except for the bad guys, but they deserved it. He’s been keeping his cool, as much as he can, with everything going on with Spidey.

And when he wakes up, Wade will sort everything out.

His soothing motions of stroking Spidey’s back lull him into a hazy state. He rumbles deep in his throat every time Spidey so much as twitches. It does the trick, calming the omega down almost immediately. But the peace only lasts for so long. After about ten minutes, Stark comes marching out of the bathroom with a smug look on his face. When he gets close enough to Wade, he holds out his phone to Wade expectantly.

_**This doesn’t look good, boss**. _

_Not good at all, boss._

When Wade doesn’t take the phone, Stark growls and pushes it right into Wade’s face, smooshing his nose and making him jerk back. Spidey whines against his neck but settles when Wade runs his fingers over his head and through his hair.

After flicking Stark off with his free hand, he snatches the phone and puts it to his ear.

“Deadpool speaking. How may I be of service?”

He was expecting Fury or Coulson. Maybe even one of Stark’s mates. Instead what sounds like a little old lady answers, her voice confident and sure.

“Hello, dear. This is May. Peter’s aunt.”

Wade’s brain goes completely quiet, then erupts in a wave of panic. The boxes are yelling, running around like chickens with their heads cut off, and Wade gets distracted because how is that possible? They _don’t have legs_.

It’s not until several minutes later that May’s “Wade, dear, are you still there?” registers, and causes Wade to snap to alertness.

“Yes! Eh, I mean, yes, ma’am. I’m still here.” He looks up to glare at Stark, wishing he had another hand to reach for the smug man’s throat. His brain finally starts to catch up with what’s happening. “Wait,” he says, “how’d you know my name?”

“Oh! Peter talks about you all the time. I’ve been telling him to bring you over for dinner for years, but never mind that. Tony says he’s hurt?”

Wade’s so distracted by his inner alpha howling with joy that he can barely think. “Yeah. He uh—he got gassed.”

_OMG wait. Just wait. She wants us over for dinner?!_

_**For years?** _

_She likes us! She likes us! Spidey’s aunt likes us!_

_**She hasn’t meant us yet, boss. Don’t get excited**._

“Gassed? Is he okay?”

Wade’s eyes widen. The hand on Spidey’s head nervously scrunching in the soft hair. “Oh! Shit. Yeah, he’s okay. He’ll be good as new when he wakes up. I got him to go down.”

Stark curses from where he looms way too close over Wade. Domino gives him a pitying look. There’s silence on the other end of the phone. And then it clicks. He just told Spidey’s aunt that he _got him to go down_. As in _omega space_. Which is not exactly something to tell anyone. Let alone a mom figure.

**_Yep, she’s gonna hate us._ **

“Oh, wait. No,” Wade sputters. “I wasn’t supposed to say that. I mean—”

“No, Wade,” May interrupts. “It’s quite alright. I’m well aware of how Peter is. About what he needs in a mate. It sounds like you’re taking good care of him. And I’ll trust you to make sure he gets home safe.”

The phone slips out of Wade’s sweaty hand and the only reason it doesn’t hit the floor is because Domino somehow manages to catch it. She hands it back to him, mouthing, “Relax.”

“Ms. May, I bet you’re the sweetest lady in the universe, but you’re gonna give me a heart attack talking like that, and that’s not an easy thing to do.”

Chuckling sounds through the phone. “Sweetheart, I’ve raised Peter for most of his life.”

“And you’ve done an amazing job,” Wade jumps in.

“Thank you. I mean to say that I trust my nephew’s ability to judge a person.”

Wade nods along, looking down at the omega in his lap. “He is Spiderman, after all.”

“Yes, but he’s Peter Parker, too. Don’t you forget that, Wade Wilson.”

Spidey. Peter. Whatever you want to call him. They’re the same person. Just like Wade and Deadpool are. You can’t separate them.

“Right, I won’t. Promise.”

“And if you two choose to mate, know that he’s going to try to give you the world. That’s the kind of person he is. Just make sure you come over for dinner before that happens. I’d like to meet you. Officially.”

A weird sound leaves his throat. Not quite a growl, but not a wine either. It almost sounds like he’s violently choking. His body convulses with it, and Spidey locks his legs around him hard enough to hurt.

_Smooth._

Wade rubs his free hand up and down the omega’s back, trying to get him to relax again.

“Breath, dear. I have to go, but you take care of him. Tony will let me know when you get back to the tower. And don’t let that man get to you too much. He worries about Peter, too, but he can be a real pain.”

A surprised laugh burst from him. “Yeah, okay. And I will take care of him.”

“I know, dear. Goodbye.”

“Bye, Ms. May.”

Wade hangs up and stares at the phone in shock. Did that really just happen? He looks up at Stark, sees the furious look on his face, and smiles.

Yeah, that just happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shoutout to (drumrollllll) 
> 
> jzrabbitbaby for Wade talking to Aunt May


	12. Getting Answers is Never Easy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeeyyy everyone!! Finally got the next chapter written! I'm pretty happy with it, and I hope you are, too! But of course, what you really want is going to be in the next chapter, which hasn't been written yet sooooo sorry about that, but hopefully I will be able to get it to you faster than this one. I think next chapter might be the last if it comes out how I want it to! AHH! I'm both excited and sad about that. 
> 
> Enjoy!!

Peter wakes up in soft sheets, head beating in time with his heart, and making him choke on a pained groan. Memories flash behind his eyes. The plane, the mission, the weird room with the kid and the gas. Wade. He doesn’t remember what happened after Wade brought him back on the plane. There are feelings: safety, contentment, a slow gooey feeling that he can’t put a name to.

“Good evening, Mr. Parker,” Jarvis’s voice comes through the intercom. Peter cracks his eyes open in time to see the room brighten. “It is six, forty-seven P.M., Tuesday the—”

“Tuesday!” Peter gasps. That means he’s been out for almost two days. He’s missed two days of classes, two days of being Spiderman, and two days of not telling Aunt May where he’s been. “What happened?”

His spidey senses tingle just in time to see someone stand up from the corner of the room.

“God, I really am lucky, aren’t I?” Domino smirks and crosses her arms. “Maybe if Wade would’ve let me sit watch earlier, you wouldn’t have taken so long to wake up.”

With a curse, Peter feels at his face. Instead of the familiar texture of his mask, his fingers meet smooth skin.

“Yeah,” Domino says. “Sorry about that. You’ve had it off since before I got back on the plane. I know you probably didn’t want me to see, but it if makes you feel any better, I have no idea who you are.” She smirks. “And you look a whole lot better than Wade without his mask.”

Peter growls. He can’t help it. He can still smell the alpha: fire and cinnamon and warm gun metal. And all at once he misses him and wants to web up the other omega who insulted him and leave her for New York’s rat population to find.

Domino just raises an eyebrow at him. “No need to get all hostile.” Then she smirks and walks up to his bed. “You know, I’d give the ‘If you hurt my friend, I’ll find a way to kill you’ speech, but Wade would probably magically sense you being threatened and show up to throw me out the window.”

And just like that, the door is being opened. Peter’s head shoots up, his guts squeeze almost painfully. But instead of the tall, costumed alpha, it’s Bruce, dressed in his typical khaki pants and lab coat. He must not hide his disappointment well, because Domino gives him a teasing wink.

“It’s good to see you awake, Peter,” he says, setting his StarkPad on the counter by the sink. “You may go, Ms… um. Ms. Domino?” His cheeks flush slightly, and he rubs at his right ear. “Sorry, I don’t really know your name.”

Peter almost wants to laugh at the beta’s awkwardness. After the disaster of the mission, he practically deserves to enjoy someone else’s embarrassment, but he’s too busy trying to regain some of his own dignity and sit up. He doesn’t get very far, his vision going dizzy and making him nauseous.

As she walks to the door, Domino turns back to wink at Peter again. “I’ll go find Wade. Let him know your awake. He’s been scared that he put you too far down.”

Peter’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, but she’s already out the door. He turns to Bruce instead. “What’s she talking about?”

“Uh.” Looking uncomfortable, Bruce fidgets some more, then rushes to the side of Peter’s bed. “Let’s get you sitting up. Jarvis told everyone that your awake, and it’ll only be a matter of time before they all decide to ignore my directions for them to wait and barge in.”

Peter huffs a laugh. He’s not wrong. This isn’t the first time Peter has woken up in the med bay of Stark tower, and usually, it only takes seconds for the residents to make it to his door once he wakes up. As Bruce raises the head of the bed, something soft tumbles down his chest and lands in his lap. The red and blue pattern is unmistakable. A pleased thrill runs through Peter’s entire body. With a smile, he picks up the Spiderman plushie. He can hear Bruce checking all the monitors, asking Peter questions about how he’s feeling every few seconds, but the omega’s attention is on the plushie.

It still smells like Wade, but it smells like Peter, too.

“Bruce?” Peter cuts the beta off mid-question. “What did Domino mean when she said Wade’s scared about putting me down?” Silence answers him. “Do I have to ask Jarvis?”

Bruce clears his throat. “I know your young, Peter, but you must have learned about it in school. You took health class. I remember that Tony told me that you did good in it, too.”

Peter bangs his head back against the thick pillow and grumbles. “Just because I was able to get good grades in the class doesn’t mean I payed a lot of attention. You know me. Short attention span, more focused on Spiderman than learning about that stuff.”

Jarvis interrupts before Bruce can start lecturing him, and Peter would’ve been glad if the AI didn’t say, “I believe your exact words were, ‘I wouldn’t have to learn about that stuff from a stuffy, old teacher if a certain alpha would get his head out of his ass.’”

Face immediately on fire, Peter’s mouth falls open. Bruce on the other hand, seems to choke on his tongue.

“Jarvis, _why_?”

If the AI could laugh, Peter thinks it would. It probably seen the entire plane ride, too. Tony has Jarvis in almost everything these days. “I would love to tell you, Mr. Parker, but the others will be arriving in ten seconds.”

Peter sighs. At least one of them is bound to tell him what happened after Wade carried him onto the plane. He can’t pick up a distinct emotion from Bruce’s beta scent, but his face conveys a mixture between relief and what Peter guesses as resigned annoyance. But then a smug smile lights up the beta’s face. “I’m sure Deadpool will be happy to explain everything to you.”

Peter’s left gaping as the door bursts open and people rush through. He sees Aunt May first, rushing to give him a hug. Tony and Pepper are next, and the rest of the Avengers follow. With each embrace, he feels a little less traumatized about everything. Questions about how he’s feeling tumble out of mouths in a constant flow. He sees some of them standing back and whispering with Bruce, but there’s one thing that’s missing, making him feel squirmy and anxious.

He just _has_ to ask before he thinks about the consequences. “Where’s Wade?”

Its Aunt May who answers, her voice soft and comforting. “Oh, honey,” she says, “he’ll be here soon. He wanted to give us some time with you before he whisks you away or whatnot.” She doesn’t seem to mind the offending shade of red Peter turns or the snickers and fake gags from the others, but Peter bares his teeth the slightest bit at them. His aunt doesn’t seem to mind that either. “I talked to him quite a bit, and I must say that you’ve made a great choice for an alpha. You two will take very good care of each other.”

Peter gulps. “Okay.”

Inside he’s kind of freaking out a little, because this is happening.

This is happening, right? He’s not in some weird coma from whatever happened back at that Weapon X base? Or worse. What if he’s still in that base, and what if the weird guy from that little room won? Oh god, what if he’s dead and this is all some afterlife hallucination? Does that even happen? Does that mean that the kid he was supposed to save is still in danger, too? And what about—

A hand lands on his shoulder and squeezes. He flinches, expecting pain, but it’s soft, comforting, and the scent that comes with it is familiar. “Jesus, kid,” Mr. Stark says when Peter focuses on his face. “Remind me to start looking into anxiety medication. I’m sure Bruce and I can figure out one that’ll work for you. In fact, Jarvis, clear my schedule for the rest of the day. I’ll have some ready for you to try tomorrow. Why didn’t I think of this sooner?”

“That’s a great idea, Tony,” Bruce says, interrupting the other man before he goes on a long tangent about chemical formulas. He takes his place at the edge of the group and gives Peter a closed lip smile. Gone is the joking glint to his eyes. He’s in full doctor mode, and Peter can’t help but to clutch the plushie tighter in his grip.

“Tony was able to get a sample of the gas they filtered into the room. I won’t go into detail, but it’s a type of highly concentrated hallucinogenic. It doesn’t have any long-lasting effects and should be well out of your system by now. I’d say that you’re good to go as soon as you feel ready.”

As one, all the supers in the room let out a relieved sigh. Aunt May gives him a slightly teary-eyed smile.

But Peter’s mind races. “Then why was I out for so long? Why did it affect me so badly? I’ve been gassed before. It was never that bad.”

“Weapon X knows what they’re doing with that kind of stuff,” Mr. Stark says. “However, if Wilson would’ve been a little more careful, and if you would’ve worn your Iron Spider suit, then—”

Pepper elbows Tony in the gut, and hisses, “Not now.”

Peter bites at his lips and curls his toes. _Right, so he messed up. Mr. Stark is disappointed in him. Great._

Bruce jumps in again. “With your weakened mental state at the time, your lack of sleep and heightened anxiety, it would have been easier for the drug to take hold. There are other things too that would have affected it, but as I’ve said before, there is no lasting damage, and you should feel as good as new after some food and water.”

Peter blows out a breath and mentally rolls his eyes at himself. Anxiety is a bitch, what can you do?

“But I did save the kid, right? Or Wade did. And the other hostages were alright, too?”

“Yes, son,” Captain America speaks up. “You did good. The mission was a success. All hostages were accounted for and we’ve sent a group of trusted Shield agents to take care of the Weapon X base and those that were present. Bucky and I have been keeping close tabs on it.”

Peter thumps his head back against the pillow and lets that sink in. He still wants to know about the other stuff, about what Wade supposedly did and about how the rest of the mission played out, but his head is swimming from not eating for so long and he’s not blind enough to know that asking about the stuff with Wade will only lead to more embarrassment and confusion.

Aunt May budges Mr. Stark aside so she can pat at Peter’s hair. “You must be starving, sweetheart.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Jarvis says, “but Deadpool is on his way with food.”

And just like that, Peters heart is racing and melting at the same time. Aunt May smiles at him, pats his cheek a few times, and promptly ushers everyone out of the room. Before each one walks through the door, they give him encouraging looks, even those that have been making fun of him for ages about Wade.

Mr. Stark goes as far as to say, “Good luck, kid.”

And, god, he hopes that he doesn’t mess this up. For either of them.

He’s talked to Wade thousands of times before, but this time is going to be different. He just knows it. He’s wanted this for so long. Messing it up isn’t an option.

Peter straightens out his pajama shirt, rubs at his face, and ruffles his slightly greasy hair.

“Okay, Parker,” he mutters to himself. “You can do this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out tooooo....
> 
> Orange_Coyote for Domino and Peter interaction!


	13. A Course in Health and Unsaid Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I noticed a lot of screaming in the last chapter's comments, and I 100% feel you guys. This has been an amazing fic to write and to talk to you guys about. I've loved every word! And I want to thank everyone for reading and commenting and kudoing. Seriously guys, thank you. You're all amazing. 
> 
> And let me just say, I hate writing endings.   
> Enjoy the final chapter of Flirting, Confusion, and Too Much Anxiety!
> 
> Are you crying? No?   
> Good Good Good (wipes tears) Me neither.

It’s been five minutes since Wade’s walked through the door, carefully handed Peter his tray full of homemade food, and started messing around with random medical equipment. Five whole minutes, and Peter still can’t stop purring. It happened before when the alpha gave him food on the plane, and it’s happening again.

But at least there’s only Wade to witness it, and besides, the nervous and angry notes that the alpha had in his scent are pretty much nonexistent now, and Peter would like to think that it’s because of _him_.

So far, neither of them is doing good at the whole ‘talking thing’ which is concerning to say the least, because out of everyone in New York, they have to be in the top ten most talkative people. But Peter feels strangely calm. Maybe he’s in shock. The fact that Wade’s wearing a comfortable looking pair of jeans and a hoodie instead of his suit probably doesn’t have anything to do with it.

Nope. Not at all.

Peter downs a few gulps of his soup, silencing his obnoxious purring for a couple seconds. Wade’s head whips around to face him at the silence. His mask is off, allowing Peter to see his eyes track from the bowl of soup, to the plushie sitting in the crook of Peter’s elbow, to Peter himself.

If Peter widens his “Bambi eyes” a little bit as he munches on his sandwich, nobody has to know. Wade’s face does a funny thing and he waves one of his hands in the air as if shooing away a bug. The gesture is telling enough that Peter finally says something. “The boxes bothering you today?”

Wade pokes through a rack of multicolored vials, and says, “Just being their usually annoying selves, baby boy. Nothing to worry about.”

Nodding his head, Peter goes back to his food. This is going to be up to him, he knows it. Wade would have already jumped to it. Peter’s going to have to start the conversation, and god, doesn’t that just suck? Where does he even start?

He briefly entertains the idea of not saying anything, of going on how they’ve always done. Peter cringes at himself. He can’t do that. Not anymore.

“You know” Peter says, playing with a piece of lettuce that fell off his sandwich, “I have a lot of questions, and no one seems to want to answer them.”

Wade throws a roll of gauze over his shoulder. It lands directly in the sink. Then he leans up against the side of Peter’s bed. His eyes take in the mostly eaten food on Peter’s tray and he smiles, big and goofy. Peter’s stomach swoops at the sight. His purring gets even louder. “I’ll answer them all, Spidey.”

“Peter. My names Peter. You’ve probably heard it enough by now to know.”

A pleased grumbling sound leaves Wade’s throat. “Peter,” he growls.

The omega’s mouth pops open. Closes. _Fuck_.

Wade smirks at him and waves his hand about. “Fire away, Petey.”

Peter’s still trying to recover. Maybe that was a mistake, because now, every time he says it, Peter’s brain kind of short circuits. He busies himself with moving the tray off to the side. The last thing he wants to do is send the thing flying when he no doubt freaks out. Hopefully his bad luck from the mission is gone, but maybe he can get Domino to come back, sit quietly in the corner and just let her mutant luck powers spread to him.

No. No, he’s not going to do that. That would probably be even worse.

“Okay,” Peter says, but nothing else comes out.

_Oh, god. I can’t do this._

He’s just going to embarrass himself more in front of Wade. Once he finds out that Peter knows practically nothing of what’s going on between them, then he’ll…do what? Peter mentally shakes his head at himself. This is Wade.

He sucks in a breath and rubs his sticky fingers through his hair. “What did Domino mean about putting me down?”

Hand over his heart, Wade makes a weird wheezing sound loud enough to raise the hair along Peter’s arms. “Holy mother of Christ, baby boy. Warn a guy.”

Peter’s face burns. The purring finally stops.

Wade stills, tilts his head like he’s listening to his boxes, and frowns at Peter. It takes long enough that Peter starts clamming up, wondering if he should start apologizing. But then Wade says, “You don’t know. Of course, you don’t know. I mean, I thought you might know some of it, but nope!”

Peter tries to hide his flinch. He doesn’t like not knowing things, and yeah, he probably should have looked into everything sooner, took a couple hours out of his schedule, but he never really felt like he needed to until now. “Some of what?” he asks.

“The birds and the bees, Petey! Alpha and omega relationships. Omega space! That’s important for you to know, for any omega to know. That’s what Domino was talking about. I had to put you there so you could calm down. You were barely _breathing_.” Wade tilts his head again, listening to the boxes. “Yeah, why don’t you know?”

It takes him a few seconds to get around the whole _omega space_ thing. He’s not stupid enough that he can’t guess what Wade is talking about. When Wade’s question finally registers, Peter shrugs his shoulders. “We learned about it all freshman year. A lot was going on. I just got my powers, my uncle died, everything with Mr. Stark, I met _you_. It just wasn’t that important at the time. My anxiety was even worse than it is now, the spider bite really amped it up at first. I could barely focus on _anything_.”

Peter doesn’t realize that he’s getting more and more anxious until Wade grabs hold of his ankle. There’s still blankets between them, but it shocks Peter enough to instantly quiet him down. “Alight,” Wade says, voice deeper than normal. “It’s alright. Just how about you tell me what you do know and ill fill in the rest. Easy as that.”

_Easy as that. Right._

“I know the basics. Scents, pheromones, compatibility. I-I know my side of things. Omega stuff.”

Wade hums. “Did your Aunt May tell you that you’re different? Special?”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Wade, I’m Spiderman, of course she’s said that. What mom hasn’t told their kid that?” At the dubious look on the alphas face, Peter’s brow furrows. “What?”

“Time to step it up, Daddypool.”

“Wha—”

_Daddypool_?!

“Some omegas are even more special than others, baby boy. And you’re one of them. You’re everything a normal omega is times ten. Your instincts, the way your hormones work, everything. A lot of supers and mutants are special like this. It could’ve been from the bite or natural, but that doesn’t matter. What does matter is that you’ve always handled it surprisingly well. I mean, I noticed the first time we met. It was hard not to with the way you reacted to me, but you’ve always taken everything in stride. And that’s great!”

Wade pauses, takes a good look at Peter, and then continues, “A lot of special omegas have a really hard time until they’re in a healthy bonded relationship with a very compatible mate. This is why a lot of people, even you, never noticed before. The signs were there, just not as obvious as what they usually are.”

Stunned, Peter watches Wade take in the scent wafting off him. Whatever he smells makes him grip tighter to Peter’s ankle then push off the table to stand straight. “Right,” he says, “you just absorb all of that into your amazing brain. Is there a white board in here? Pictures always help. Jarvis?”

While Wade looks around the room, Peter stares unseeing at his lap. A special kind of omega? Did that come up in class? In any of his books? He wishes he knew where his phone is so he could google it real quick. But, no, he believes Wade, and every second he thinks about it, the more it makes sense.

The sensitivity he has to scents, and the way he doesn’t like to get other people’s smells on him. How he always wants to help, always wants to take care of everything and everyone even when it means putting himself in danger. Why he’s always been so sensitive to alphas, Wade especially. There are other things, too. Smaller things that he does every day that make sense to no one but him. His crazy preheats and heats.

“Holy shit,” he whispers.

“Yeah, I know. Who would have thought that the tin can would have one of these bad boys?” Wade knocks his knuckles on the white board he found and set up next to the bed. Peter blinks dumbly at it. “How we doing, Petey? Ready for a little more than the basics?”

He goes to nod, but ends up shaking his head instead, because there’s something else that he wants to know first. “Wait, but how did you know? Oh god, who else knows?”

Wade stops digging through his pouches. The warm fire scent of him changes to a crispy burn that crackles in Peter’s nose. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s not something you need to hide. You’re perfect.”

Peter has to take a deep breath, because the overwhelming feels that hit him tighten his throat and make his heart stutter. Not really knowing what to do, he pulls his legs up to rest his chin on his knees. “I-I know that there’s nothing wrong with it, with me. It’s just a bit surprising, you know? I’m gonna need a little longer for it all to sink in. But, um, how did you know?”

Seemingly satisfied with Peter’s answer, Wade goes back to searching through his pouches. “I’ve been a lot of places, seen a lot of stuff. Spent a year working for the X-men helping people like you. As I said, most special omegas and alphas are mutants. It all went hand in hand. They kicked me out eventually of course, said I was too reckless, killed to many people.” Wade scoffs. “It’s not like Wolverine was any better, but they love him there.”

Peter’s brain still feels like it’s running at half speed, trying to keep up and absorb all this information. Should he be taking notes? Asking more questions? Should they just skip to the part where they talk about how Peter has the worlds biggest crush on the merc? Or—

“Found it!” Wade yells and banishes a marker like a sword. “Okay. Are you ready, baby boy? Feeling good? Yes? You love learning stuff. Such a cute little nerd. This is going to be so much fun.”

Peter glances at the clock in the room. It’s not too late. They’ll have plenty of time to talk about everything. “Yeah,” he says, getting comfortable. “I’m ready.”

 

It takes almost four hours. Four hours of Wade cramming a years’ worth of health information into obscene doodles and long tangents. Jarvis tried to jump in every once in a while, obviously annoyed with Wade’s method of teaching. He tried to use Peter in every example he came up with, and by the end of it Peter is overwhelmed and slightly mortified. But his cheeks and abs also ache from laughing too much, and the happy scents in the room leave him feeling slightly high.

“So,” Peter says when Wade finally concludes the lesson. “I’ve pretty much been courting you since we met.”

Wade beams at him. “Yep! You’ve been so cute!”

Peter frowns at him and crosses his arms. He can _see_ the alpha mentally backtrack.

“Amazing! I meant, amazing. So amazing, baby boy.”

The Spiderman plushie was relocated to his lap sometime during the lesson, and Peter squeezes its soft body between his fingers. He peers up at Wade, and with a bit of hesitance, asks what he’s been wanting to know since Wade handed him the plushie in the first place. “Then why didn’t you say or do anything before?

Wade comes to sit at the foot of Peter’s bed and smiles softly at him in reassurance. “You were so young, baby boy. Fifteen! Not only is that completely illegal, but I didn’t want to tie you down.”

“I’ve wanted to be tied to you since the first time I saw you.” Peter says it without thinking. Immediately, his face is on fire. He rubs at it with both hands. But he doesn’t take the words back, he doesn’t apologize.

Wade waits unit Peter meets his eyes again. “I know, baby boy. But that was all hormones. You were completely controlled by them. Even if you were older when we met, I still wouldn’t have done anything. There’s no real consent when something like that happens. Besides, I like how everything turned out.” This time it’s Wade who looks uncertain. “Do you?”

Peter thinks of the late-night meet ups for patrol, eating tacos and messing around. All the conversations and the slowly grown friendship. What they have is _real_ , Peter knows that. It’s not hormone induced, it’s a real friendship, and _more_.

Peter smiles. “Yeah. I like how it turned out, too.”

They sit there smiling at each other like a couple of idiots. Soaking in the scent of each other, of _happy, safe, love_.

“I’m keeping the plushie,” Peter says after a few minutes. “Forever. I’m not joking.”

Wade lets out an obnoxiously fake gasp and shakes his head with an even more obnoxious looking frown. “We’re a package deal, Petey. Me and that plushie. There’s no separating us. So, I don’t know how this is going to work.”

_Idiot_.

In a rush of movement, Peter rolls onto his knees and covers the remaining space between them. Or, he was supposed to, but he bumps into the forgotten tray that his food was on and it clatters to the floor.

Peter looks away from the fallen tray with wide eyes. “Why?” he whispers pathetically.

Chuckling, Wade sets his warm hand on Peter’s jaw, and rubs his thumb along his lower lip. Peter squeaks. “Careful, baby boy.”

And then his lips are pressed to Peter’s and everything else melts away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've tried to get as many of your suggestions into this story and I'm sorry if I couldn't fit some of yours in. Our last shout out is to Those"ideas"youaskedfor.Kindof.(Notreally) for Wade explaining himself FINALLY. I'm sure were all grateful for that to happen!
> 
> Throughout this story, I've constantly hinted at a certain incident with doombots. It's a story that I want to tell, one that I plan on telling, one that might be already half way written and titled. (I'm trying to be dramatic here and idk why) Ehem, it's going to be called Unintentional Knee Shattering, and it'll be here soon! (There we go, that wasn't hard.) 
> 
> My point is that even though this fic is done, I still have ideas for more in this series, so please be on the look out for them! If you have any ideas, suggestions, requests no matter how big or small, drop them off in the comments. Just be aware that I'm not big on writing smut or depressing stuff. I like to stick with cute and fluffy (surprise, surprise) 
> 
> I feel like I need to say something else...   
> Goodbye? Thank you? See you soon? 
> 
> Sorry, sorry, I might be freaking out about this being over! AHHHHHH!


End file.
